


Corner Store Candy

by Bubonicc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical Procedures, Prostitution, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubonicc/pseuds/Bubonicc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet works in a Clinic in the Dead End and is used to seeing Leakers, addicts, and prostitutes on his way to work. Gangs run rampant through the streets, leaving Ratchet with a supply of patients all the time, Except one catches his eye. As a Medic, Ratchet has become used to helping those in need, and he finds himself with one in particular that is in need of guidance. Can Ratchet save this lost spark? Or will it slip through his fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corners

**Author's Note:**

> If you find any Typos or errors forgive me! I will try to fix them as I go along!  
> I have been wanting to write something like this forever. So here it is! Hopefully it will be nice and long! Enjoy!

Leakers, addicts, skivs, and nails all stood around on the corners begging for whatever little helpings they could get their grimy hands on. There was nothing promising on these streets, nothing but bots looking for a quick frag, hired guns and lost souls, waiting to rust away in the shadowed corners of the alley ways.

Ratchet had grown accustomed to driving by them every day, considering they always inhabited the same spots by the corner store. Every morning he could see the same cluster of run down mechs, sometimes he would notice some went missing and newer bots replaced them. Down here in the Dead End, it wasn't uncommon for a prostitute to go missing, or a drug dealer to be suddenly gunned down. No, it was just everyday life, and Ratchet built his clinic in the middle of it.

His Den, as he liked to call it, provided medical services for those not wealthy enough to go to bigger hospitals. Though Ratchet hadn't just opened the place to treat over dosed mechs and brutes that came by after pit fights, but to also help the troubled families around. Life was hard enough even with the war over, and good health care was hard to come by for the unfortunates in the Dead End. People were still rebuilding broken down cities; cons and autobots still clashing despite things having ended years ago.

Ratchet had already gained a reputation for being a tough medic. He knew drug addicts would come to the clinic looking for a fix, and he sure as hell wasn't about to hand it over to them. He could spot them a mile away, and found it amusing some treated him like he had been forged yesterday, but he was just as sly as they were.

He turned addicts away constantly, and soon enough memorized what they looked like and counted them as his "regulars." He had to admit though he was surprised the first time an addict had been crazy enough to rip his own arm off just to get some medication, but Ratchet treated it with no meds. All because he recognized the bot as an addict.

Of course his much younger medical student First Aid thought it to be a little ridiculous, but somehow in the Dead End it earned Ratchet respect. No gang ever tried to take the place down or raid it, maybe it was due to the fact that one day they might end up under Ratchet’s knife and would want to be on his good side if that ever happened. It was a silent agreement Ratchet had with the gutters and the mechs who slithered around in them, and he couldn't have been happier.

Transforming outside of the clinic, Ratchet brushed himself off and stretched before entering. His optics adjusted to the lower light as he stepped into the main lobby where First Aid was sitting at the front desk.

"How has the morning shift been?" Ratchet watched as First Aid looked up, his visor brightening.

"Quiet so far. Nothing out of the ordinary unless you count two more pit members today. One’s equilibrium was knocked out of order, easy fix though." First Aid flipped a paper and signed something on it. "And I am sure you know the rest of the crew that is here." He tilted his head to the side, gesturing at the bots all sitting in the waiting room.

"Anything serious?" A funny question, considering at first glance the bots looked dented and scuffed, some coughing, and others just sitting patiently.

"Nothing yet, but who knows, it's never a dull moment here." First Aid leaned back in his chair and held up a data pad so Ratchet could see it. "Orion Pax left a message for you earlier, said he was stopping by the area. Something about wanting to slow down the gang and criminal activity here. I tried not to laugh in all honesty, he thinks he can fix this place."

"That's Pax." Ratchet took the data pad from the young medic and leaned on the counter.

"Yeah well, let's hope he doesn't fix the place too well or we will be going out of business." First Aid jokes as he put his hands behind his head and slumped in his chair.

"I don't think we'll ever have to worry about that." Ratchet scrolled through the data pad and read over the patient listing. He sighed and pushed himself off of the counter and moved over to the waiting room where several bots looked up nervously.

"Alright, who's first."

 

* * *

 

The bot sitting on the table bit into his own hand, optics shuttered tightly closed as Ratchet yanked a large piece of scrap metal out of his side. It didn't come out without a loud yelp, and the mech shuddered, hissing in pain but settling back down as the pressure from the painful piece vanished.

"At some point you need to learn to land someplace else other than the scrap yard." Ratchet set the metal fragment down and started to remove smaller ones that had embedded themselves into the mech’s arm.

His current patient was known for his not-so-great landings, and usually came by once a week to have some sort of metal shard removed. Though this time was relatively serious, considering the scrap yard had been his touchdown point. Often Ratchet would reset his gyro system, which would somehow glitch and cause his patient to make terrible landings.

"You would miss me if I didn't come in as often as I do." The mech tried to laugh through clenched denta as Ratchet dug his tweezers into a deep gash to retrieve a fragment. His plating rattled a moment, and settled when Ratchet finally stepped back and set his tools down.

"I'm going to apply some medical grade to these wounds to keep them from getting a rust infection. It's going to be a week or so before you're at 100% so you need to take it easy. Once I patch you up you're ready to go but make sure you stop and see First aid first, he's going to give you a nanite injection to help your gyro system recalibrate." A handshake and the bot slid himself off the table and made his way out. Ratchet wasted no time cleaning the space for the next patient and doing away with the metal fragments.

Carrying on through the day like normal, Ratchet had lost himself in his work. So much so that the next knock on the door he heard he assumed was a patient. As he had his back to the door, Ratchet washed some of his tools and set them down to dry.

"Sit, I'll be with you in a moment."

"I'm not here for an examination, old friend." Ratchet stood up straight, optics brightening as he whirled around and smiled at Orion.

"Orion Pax!" A wide smile spread across his face as he held out his hand to shake the much taller mech’s hand. "It has been too long old friend. You look well."

"I'm glad to see you still tolerating the Dead End. A place like this needs a good spark like yours." Optics softening, Ratchet ushered Pax to sit down with him.

"I heard about your plan to try and clean this place up. I don't want to disappoint you but it seems like a fool's errand. Not that I don't think you can do it, I just have seen this place at its best and at its worst."

"I don't believe I will be able to abolish all crime here, but the activity has been spiking, and news of darker things have come up. My team and I are coming in to do a sweep for a few weeks, hopefully that will be enough to cut down the crime. If nothing else we might be able to stop a few illegal slave trades, those have been through the roof lately. We are here to try and lessen the casualties, break the gangs apart, give some bots fresh starts."

"Pax, I know you mean well but a lot of the bots that are around here don't want second starts. Some are content with what they have become and just like what they do. It's also difficult to give bots a second chance when they have boosted away half of their processor. Some of these bots are useless if ever called to battle. But here they are safe, so to speak. Others sure, they want a new start, I see them all the time in here. Some really do deserve a second shot at life, but it's glum here." Ratchet leaned back on the bench they were sharing and crossed his arms. "But I already know what you're going to say. Something along the lines of how every bot deserves a second chance and we all have great potential." Ratchet ignored Orion as he smiled at him.

"You know me too well, old friend."

"Damn right I do." Ratchet huffed, optics dimming only a moment before a few loud pops could be heard. Ratchet sat up almost instantly, looking over to First Aid by the front desk who was already standing. "Was that noise what I think it was?" The noise came again, though closer this time. All three of them were standing now, heading to the main clinic entrance. As the doors opened, a cloud of dust burst past them and they all had to shield their optics a moment before it cleared.

"What in Primus' name-" Gunshots sounded, and they all ducked, trying to see what was happening before them.

"Gang fight! Probably a turf war!" First Aid jerked back as a bullet struck the side of the clinic’s door and sparked, startling him. "Get back inside! Someone's going to get shot!" The young medic retreated into the clinic’s main hall, hiding behind the heavy steel door.

Ratchet kept moving forwards, trying to see who it was that were fighting, but all he managed to see was a flash of red and blue. He kept his arm up until the dust cleared and sighed as he saw Orion landing a hard punch to a bot’s side and knocking him down.

He wasted no time leaping to the next, taking them down like it was all child's play, and honestly it probably was. Orion had no trouble twisting bot’s arms to get them to drop their guns and pinning them to the ground so he could cuff them. The whole ordeal had lasted maybe a few minutes, though not without casualties.

"Show off." Ratchet waved at the air to clear the last of the dust before heading over to a bot who was faced down. Already he could see energon pooling around the frame, poor fool must have been hit on a main energon line. Bleeding out before the fight had even ended, two others suffered the same fate as him.

"This is what I came here for." Orion dragged the bots all to sit by one another, looking them over and assessing their wounds as well. Some had holes in their arms and legs but for the most part got away lucky. "Looks like that's everybody." Orion put his hands on his hips, though turned when he heard Ratchet grunt.

"Not quite, look." Ratchet pointed to the ground where a thick pool of energon was, no doubt where a bot had been shot and a trail of energon leading off away from the fight. "Looks like one managed to scurry away." Kneeling down, Ratchet dipped his servos into the energon and rubbed the sticky fluid between them. It was syrupy, first sign of an addict.

"I'll call in my team and have them search for him."

"No need. First Aid and I can handle this. This is just a normal day for us in all honesty. Wouldn't be the first time a blood trail was left." Though most of the time Ratchet found a body rather than an alive mech.

Orion nodded and set his hand down on Ratchet’s shoulder as he stood up.

"I wish we could have reunited under better circumstances. Next time, with some drinks maybe." Shaking Ratchet’s hand, Orion hauled up his criminals and loaded them into his trailer which he had parked only a block down, leaving Ratchet to hunt down the wounded gang member.

 

* * *

 

Ratchet had told First Aid to stay in the clinic while he went and followed the trail of energon just in case their runner decided to show up looking for medical attention. Though it was a little unlikely they would if they had seen Orion arrest the others, the chances are they would stay in hiding and possibly let themselves leak out.

The trail took Ratchet around a few corners, leading him deeper into the alleys of the Dead End until he finally rounded one more and found himself grinding to a halt. A few feet before him there was a bot down on his knees, back to him.

Ratchet waited a moment, extending his EM field and letting aura of a medical officer wash over the bot to keep from startling him. It was odd though that the bot didn't even shift in the slightest, and Ratchet took a chance and stepped closer.

It wasn't until he was only a foot away that he could see all the small canisters of booster injections sticking from the bot’s arms and neck. One was lodged into the side of the bot’s dirty finial.

"Scrap! Hey! Hey!" Ratchet dropped to his knees in front of the bot, pulling him close and giving him a light shake. Drool streamed down the bot’s chin, and he wheezed, not even acknowledging Ratchet was there. He flashed a light in the mech’s optics, getting no response from them. It was too late, the bot’s optics were glossed over and lost in a high, and with the amount of boosters sticking out of him, it might be permanent if he didn't hurry. "Can you hear me, kid?" Ratchet shouted, laying the bot down on his back and carefully pulling out all of the boosters. He winced, seeing several bullet holes that littered the young mech’s frame. There were old scars from previous wounds also covering his frame, and Ratchet could see the worst of the damage was on the mech’s side. He took note that the mech’s hands were covered in energon, signaling that he had tried to stop the bleeding but must have panicked after it wouldn't stop.

"First Aid! First Aid can you hear me?" Ratchet shouted over his com-link. "I have a bot on the brink of burn out! I need a berth ready when I get there." The com cut out and Ratchet looked back down at the mech who gagged and shuttered under him. He dug his servos into the ground and hiccupped, a small trail of energon leaking from his mouth as he was struggling to hold onto life. "Hold on, I'm going to get you help. I'm going to help you!" gathering the young mech into his arms, Ratchet transformed and zoomed off with the mech safely in his back medical bed.

Ratchet practically tore the doors off the clinic as he stormed in with his bleeding out bot. So much so that when he rushed past First Aid he almost knocked him over as he laid him down on a clean berth.

"Hook him up, we need to scan him, I think he is bleeding internally." They wasted no time sticking little nodes all over the bot’s chest and sticking an IV into his arm.

Pressing his hand to the mech’s chest, Ratchet closed his optics and focused, through his servos he could feel the young mech’s spark beating, though it was growing weaker and weaker by the second. The mech’s frame faded, though his frame was covered in grime, the visible white seemed to tint a slight gray.

"He looks my age..." First Aid said softly, though Ratchet ignored him as he moved around the bot’s frame to get a better look at all of the damage. Several bullet wounds across his chest, hips, arms, and legs, the worst of it focused on his right side where he, no doubt, took more than one bullet. "Ratchet...look at him...he is too far gone. Let him go-" First Aid stopped abruptly when Ratchet glared up at him. "Alright..." He put his hands up in defense, knowing Ratchet wasn't one to just let a patient slip away without at least trying.

"If we don't operate he will no doubt bleed out. Not to mention that we need to flush out his systems for whatever he pumped into them when I found him. No doubt he tried to boost the pain away from this, this isn't an injury he should have been able to walk away from. Prep the surgery bay and while you're at it do a factory scan on him, I want to know exactly who this is and what he turns into and why he is here." Ratchet said as he palpated the mech’s midsection. "Go! Hurry!" Ratchet snapped, and First Aid jumped, hurrying off.


	2. The Struggle

Ratchet moved around the room, carefully setting down packets of tools for the coming surgery and neatly setting them aside. Behind him, First Aid was standing on the side of the medical table their current patient was now laying on.

"Any ID on him yet?" Ratchet said over his shoulder, moving over and setting the trays down on a cart by the table. Next he moved to insert an IV into the mech’s arm and then place sticky little nodes all over his dented chest armor.

"Still processing his model number, shouldn't be much longer." First Aid held up the data pad he had in hand and gave the mech on the table another scan and waited. There was a soft ping and data started to scroll all over the page. "Ah, here we go. Some old medical records. Says here is name is Deadlo-" he paused, "sorry, Drift. His name is Drift." First Aid looked down at Drift, then looked at his chest where a logo should have been. "Says here he was a con."

"So? The war is over, doesn't matter what side he is on anymore."

"It does if he was with a gang of cons." The younger medic watched Ratchet open one of Drift’s eyes and flash a light in, still getting minimal response. Drift’s optics had turned off the moment he had picked him up outside and carried him all the way to the clinic. He would have seemed dead if not for the shallow breaths he was still taking in.

Ratchet turned his little light off and glanced to one of Drift’s audio fins which was slightly bent out of place. Considering how sensitive things like that were to mechs, it must have hurt like hell when it was damaged. Though an easy fix considering all he had to do was bend it back into place, and with Drift out cold, there would be less crying.

"Get the area around the wound clean, I'll start on it in a moment." Gripping the out of shape finial, Ratchet gave it a hard yank. The fin bent right back into place, but Ratchet hadn't been ready for the bot below him to suddenly scream.

"Ah!" An arm came up and knocked Ratchet back, causing him to knock over his cart of tools and send them scattering across the floor. "AHH!" Drift sat up, hands holding onto his head as he curled in on himself. His hand moved to the nape of his arm where he yanked the IV line out.  "AH!" He cupped it, nursing the spot on his arm as it burned.  "Nng!" In all of the confusion, he tried to turn, finding himself falling off of the table and landing hard on his front.

"Primus!" In all the loud clatter of confusion, First Aid rushed to Drift’s side. "You mustn't move! You're in critical condition!" He set a hand down on Drift’s shoulder, though he came to regret it as a hard arm swiped back and hit him across the face. 

"F-Frag! Frag!" Drift coughed, getting onto his hands and knees, his tank suddenly turning from all the quick movements. Despite covering his mouth, a thick black liquid erupted out and spurt between his servos, splattering all over the floor.

The liquid was hot and sticky, and Drift groaned into his hand before pulling it away from his mouth and spitting. The sour taste of the fluid tainted his mouth and he grimaced as he continued to crawl. His hand bumped into a few tools, sending them skittering all over once again, though he grabbed one and kept it tight in his hand for a weapon.

"Stop!" First Aid was up now, grabbing at Drift’s shoulder again. "You're going to hurt yourself! Please! Just stay calm!" Drift sideswiped the medic again, knocking him down onto his back and quickly trying to get to his feet.

"Don't touch me!" Drift snarled, his optics flickering as static filled his vision. "Just keep the frag away from me!" His optics flicked back and forth between Ratchet, who was standing a few feet away, and First Aid, who was sitting on the floor.

"Easy now kid," Ratchet side stepped, trying to get to First Aid’s side to help the poor mech up, "Nobody is going to hurt you, you're safe here."

"LIAR!" Drift roared, whirling himself around, he rushed to the double doors and hurled himself through them.

"Get up! We have to stop him!" Yanking the younger medic to his feet, Ratchet ran through the double doors next. On his way out, he stopped just outside of the door to a keypad and quickly typed in a series of numbers. Once he pressed the enter key, alarms started to blare. With the medical emergency code in place, all doors would be locked down and only Ratchet’s keycard could open them, which meant Drift would be trapped.

Drift, had already made it several halls down, trying his best to navigate the halls and not corner himself. The longer he could avoid Ratchet and the smaller medic, the better.

"Mnm!" Drift staggered, nearly falling and having to brace himself by placing one hand on the wall and the other on his bleeding side. "Frag frag frag! How do I get the hell out of here?!" He paused a moment, looking back and forth between the halls, gritting his denta.

"Hey! Stop!" Drift jumped and looked back to see Ratchet making his way towards him. His optics widened and he felt his fans stall suddenly as a wave of terror swallowed him. Having to force himself to move, he tried his best to run. He made a left turn, running down the hall and seeing a set of doors in front of him. He could see through the glass panes on the door, that the lobby was on the other side and freedom was close at hand.

That was if when he had run into the door it had opened but instead it took his impact and bounced him back, nearly knocking him down.

"What?!" Ramming his shoulder into the door, it didn't open and he tried again. "Come on! Come on!" He kept ramming until Ratchet and First Aid had caught up with him, cornering him in the hall.

Drift turned, pressing his back to the doors and squishing himself against it as hard as he possibly could. His finials drooped and he trembled where he stood.

"Don't come near me." His voice cracked, and he licked his lips nervously.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Just calm down, we're here to help you. You're very badly hurt and need medical attention. You're going to bleed to death if I don't fix you." Ratchet held up his hands to show he was unarmed and elbowed First Aid to do the same. "You're scared and confused and I understand, but you just need to take deep breaths and relax."

"I don't want your help!" Drift spat venom, bearing his jagged denta at the two medics. "Nobody is putting their hands inside of me ever again. You hear me?! Never! So get back!" Holding out the surgical knife he had picked up, he pointed it at Ratchet. He squinted, having a hard time focusing as several transparent Ratchets floated around the real one. "Open the door and let me out! Get me the frag out of here!"

First Aid shifted uncomfortably, watching the scared bot before them teeter from one ped to the next and shake his head to try and dispel the dizzy feeling. He still hand one hand pressed to his side; the energon flow was heavy and streaming between his servos, down his hip and legs to drip on the floor below.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Ratchet took a step closer but froze when Drift pulled the knife back and pressed it to the main energon line on his neck.

"Stop! I'll do it! I will! Stay back! I'll cut my lines if you take another step!" hand shaking so hard, he nicked his line, and Ratchet could see a bit of energon flow down the knife and onto Drift’s hand. His breathing was near hyperventilating, and his knees practically were knocking together. "J-Just stay back-" Drift’s vision suddenly went black and he jerked back, hitting the door hard enough to rattle it. He grabbed his head as a searing pain sliced through his processor, causing a system malfunction and making him double over in pain.

"Get ready to hold him down!" Ratchet lunged forwards, grabbing the hand Drift was holding the knife in and wrenching it behind his back.

"Agh!" Drift’s optics flickered back online, accompanied by thick blotches of static as he was slammed against the wall. "Stop it! Get off of me!" He thrashed, trying to buck Ratchet off but the medic was far stronger. He grabbed one of Drift’s finials and forced his head down, taking the mech to his knees and then hard onto his belly. "Stop it!" Drift felt a weight on his back as First Aid dug his knee into it and took Ratchet’s place pinning him.

"Stop making this difficult for yourself!" First Aid had no trouble holding Drift, considering Drift wasn't in any condition to fight, nor had the strength to do so. He bucked and struggled none the less, screaming into the cool tiled floor as Ratchet slid his key card through a panel and opened a door to a side room connected to the hall.

Inside the room, he walked over to a set of cabinets and opened them, pulling out a vile and a syringe. He shook the vile turning it upside down and uncapping the syringe with his free hand.

Drift felt his tank turn as he heard the soft squeegee noise the needle made as it pushed up into the vile and sucked up whatever liquid Ratchet had retrieved. It was followed by a soft pop as Ratchet removed it from the vile and gave the syringe a quick flick and pushed the plunger so some of the liquid would shoot out the tip. Once satisfied, he moved back out into the hall.

The knot in Drift’s intake grew tighter as he listened to Ratchet’s footsteps get closer and closer. Coolant suddenly started to sting his optics, and he threw a fit to try and get free. Though no matter how hard he flailed his arms and legs, First Aid stayed seated on his back.

"Please! Please don't! Please! Not again! Not again! Please! I don't want this!" Drift sobbed, thick tears rolling down his cheeks now. He hiccupped, digging his servos into the floor and tried to twist his frame, only irritating his wound and sending energon squirting onto the floor to collect in a pool around his waist. "I don't want this! Just let me go! Please let me go!" Hysterical now, Drift choked out a sob as Ratchet knelt down by him, the needle now in Drift’s view. "Primus!" He bucked, but Ratchet grabbed his finial and pushed his head down until Drift’s hot cheek was against the cool tiles.

"Shh." Ratchet’s grip was firm, and he held Drift steady. "Deep breaths." Ratchet pulled on Drift’s finial, making him bend his head upward and expose his neck to him. The sensitive mesh was exposed and Ratchet pressed a servo to the energon line he was going to jab to prep it.

"I don't want this! I don't want this! Stop it! Please!" He felt the hand on his finial suddenly squeeze a little harder and then a sudden searing pain spread through his neck as Ratchet jabbed the needle into the line. "Ah-AH!" Drift’s optics widened as the burn increased the deeper Ratchet pushed the syringe and then the sting of the liquid being pushed into his energon stream. "PLEASE!" Drift jerked, crying out and kicking his legs.

Ratchet pushed the plunger all the way down and pulled the needle out, quickly pressing two servos to the puncture and rubbing it to sooth the pain. Below, he watched Drift’s optics flicker and his pained expression slowly fade to a dazed look.

"Please-" The fight faded out of Drift’s frame along with his voice. Ratchet let his finial go and set his servos down on Drift’s back to rub soothing circles into his shoulder blade. "Please...please...hhaaa...hhhuhh....pl-eh..." Optics dimming, Drift struggled with himself to keep them online as the corners of his vision started to swallow him in a dark ring.

"You can get off of him now, he's not going anywhere." Sitting back on his haunches, Ratchet kept rubbing Drift’s back as he drooled on the floor. "That's it kid, just relax. Everything is going to be alight." He spoke down to Drift until finally the young bot’s optics offlined and he was out like a light.

"Tranquilizer?"

"Sedative, figured he would burn through the tranq if I dosed him. His sparks beating a mile a minute, he's terrified." It wasn't uncommon to have a gutter mech be afraid of the clinic but this...something was off. In all his time as a medic, he had never seen someone genuinely that scared. "Come on, he's lost to much energon, we need to get him back to the surgical bay."

 

* * *

 

The surgery went along smoothly with Drift now under and in a deep sleep. It made it a lot easier for Ratchet to open him up and start to sort out the damage that had been done to his internal components.  First Aid watched Ratchet work, handing him tool after tool until he heard the doctor make a sound of anger.

"What?" First Aid leaned in, looking into Drift’s frame. All he saw was Ratchet working on fixing a few of the rust patches and pulling out bullet fragments.

"His T-cog is missing." He pointed to the large space where the round object should have been sitting. "Among other things in here. This bots a mess." Ratchet set a bullet fragment down in a tray. "The missing cog explains the sloppy welds..." Before opening Drift up, Ratchet had noticed a faint scar on Drift’s side. He had shrugged it off as simply a stab wound but now it was clear it was a surgical wound.

"He's an addict, probably sold it to get credits for boosters. Bots sell parts all the time. Or he could be one of those mechs who is sickened by transforming."

"You know, I would have agreed with you if Orion hadn't said to me earlier that organ thieves have been on the rise, and I think we just found a victim. Plus, did you hear what he said earlier?" Ratchet looked up to see First Aid’s visor dim. "He kept saying, 'not again, not again’ meaning someone with medical experience did this to him. Against his will."

"He's a gang member."

"I would have agreed with that as well but he has no logo on him like the other gang clans. I looked all over and all I could find was the dull imprint of where his decepticon badge used to be. Other than that, he's insignia free. He might have just been at the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught in the crossfire."

"Ratchet..."

"Look." Ratchet waved First Aid over to move down the table to Drift’s hips. "Look at this." Lightly, Ratchet pulled one of Drift’s thighs apart to expose his modesty plate.

First Aid looked over the scuffed and dented armor, clear signs of being sexually active, though not the gentle loving kind, more so the paid-by-the-hour kind.

"So he's a pleasure bot. He's one of the corner mechs. You know as much as I do that they come and go all the time. Plus they are easy targets, just look at him, he is as thin as a rail, we pinned him easy. Organ thieves probably saw him as easy money." Going back to Drift’s open abdomen, Ratchet started to rearrange his internal components to sit better with the missing cog and then welded him closed.

"Listen to me, the next time the waiting room is full of patients, examine them for a weld on their sides. I need to know if others have been stolen from. They were probably dumped in a ditch after the botched surgery." Setting a mesh patch over the weld, Ratchet bandaged Drift up and pulled a blanket over him. "As of right now, this kid is important. When he wakes up if he remembers who did this to him it might help Orion and his team out. So this bot doesn't leave here until he is back in top shape and tells us everything."

First Aid sighed but nodded. "Alright..."

"Good, now make sure you restrain him, he's a danger to himself and I don't need him trying to cut his lines again. Keep him on a low tranq, just enough to keep him relaxed, I don't want him drooling on himself, kids already been through hell. Also, make sure to put more blankets around him, he needs to stay warm, he has a fever though the roof, make sure you keep an eye on his core temperature. He's still not out of the woods yet." Waving First Aid off, Ratchet turned and brought his tool to the sink to clean off.

Putting his hands under the water, he watched Drift’s blood wash away from his hands and swirl around the drain.


	3. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids want some candy

Moving from cabinet to cabinet, pulling out all the supplies and organizing them before setting them in neat stacks all over the counter top. He grunted to himself from time to time, rubbing his chin and looking back and forth from supply to supply.

Behind him, First Aid was tending to a few of the walk-in bots. Overall the morning had been quiet, just the way Ratchet had liked it. Though he wasn't too pleased with how low their supplies had gotten in the last few weeks.

"Aid," Ratchet said without turning to the younger medic, "I'm going to make a run into town for more medical grade. We're low. Lower than we should be." Stacking the supplies back into the cabinets, Ratchet turned to face First Aid now.

"Are you sure? I can just put an order in for all of that. It will just be delivered here, no need to go all the way out." First Aid set down his data pad by a groaning patient’s berth and made his way over to Ratchet.

"You can put in an order for a few things but the rest I'll get myself. It's going to take a few days for it to be shipped here and we really need these supplies in case we have another shootout in the front." Speaking of the shootout, Ratchet pushed himself away from the counter and headed over to the berth Drift was laying in. Gently, Ratchet set the back of his hand on Drift’s forehead, leaving it there for a few seconds. "Fever still high." Ratchet mumbled to himself as he pulled his hand back and pressed two servos to Drift’s neck to feel his pulse. It was steady, just like the soft beat on the spark monitor, which was good. The only thing that bothered Ratchet was how pale Drift was, though he could really have used a wash. Maybe when he got back he would give Drift a wash down, primus knows he needed it. "Keep an eye on him. He still needs work and his bandages need to be tended too in a few hours. Make sure they are changed, and, if you can, try to drag some information out of him if he wakes up before I get back." Pulling his hand back, Ratchet took a deep breath and looked at his medical student.

"Don't worry about him Ratchet, how much trouble can he be now? He's tied to the berth. Don't worry, I can handle him and the clinic while you're gone." Waving the CMO away, First Aid went over to his desk and sat down with his data pad.

 

* * *

 

Head pounding, a soft groan slipped past Drift’s dry lips. He tried to online his optics, finding it difficult but getting them to flicker on after a few resets. He licked his lips, blinking, as the bright light stung at his optics, forcing him to squint and not quite register where he was.

Lifting his hands to try and rub at his optics, they abruptly caught on something and refused to move any farther upward. He gave another tug, yielding the same result again and again until he tried to look down. He whined, his neck aching from where Ratchet had jabbed him.

"W-wha-" Static littered his vision, and he had a hard time focusing on anything. Everything around him was blotched or blurred, and he tried to blink his vision feed clear. "Where am I?" He croaked, his vocalizer quite dry. As his arms and hands came into focus, he made out brown straps wrapped snuggly around his wrists, keeping him secure to his berth. "What?! What is this?!" The light tugs turned into hard yanks, rattling the restraints and the side bars to the berth. "What the frag is this?!" His cheeks grew hot with panic, and he felt his spark tighten in fear.

First Aid, hearing all of the racket, rose from his station and made his way over to Drift. He moved around the curtain and glanced at the spark monitor that was now beating frantically to match Drift’s actual spark.

"Ah, awake I see." Heading around to Drift’s berth side, First Aid paused as the monitor’s beeping increased the closer he got to the patient. "I hope you rested well, you have been asleep for quite some time."

"Untie me you fragger!" Violently, Drift arched his frame though came to instantly regret it when a searing pain sliced through his side. He gasped and flopped back down almost immediately as he had pulled and irritated his fresh weld wound. "Nng!" Coolant beaded on his forehead as he grit his denta, trying to ride out the waves of pain crashing over him. Fists tightly clenched, Drift watched through half lidded optics as First Aid pulled the blanket resting over him down to expose his abdomen.

"You're only going to hurt yourself more if you struggle like that. Your weld is still fresh and you can still easily open it up if you move harshly. You're prone to infection, your immune system is shot thanks to your boosting habits. If you get a rust infection you're going to be in a lot more pain and trouble than you are now."

Drift’s optics widened as he saw the large patch placed on his side. The middle had a light hue of pink on it from the bleeding, and as First Aid peeled it back. Drift felt a knot swell in his intake. His vents hitched, and he felt his frame starting to tremble.

"What did you do to me?!" He bucked again, crying out in agony and falling back as First Aid put his hand on his chest. "What did you do?!" His arms strained as he pulled on them, desperate to break free but he was far too weak and flimsy. "What did you remove?! What did you take?! Tell me!" He looked from the weld to First Aid, his optics flickering a dark hint of red before switching back to blue.

"Relax! We didn't remove anything from your body. In fact you should be feeling a lot better once you're completely healed. You should thank Ratchet for setting all your internal components back where they belong." Keeping his hand on Drift’s chest until he stopped bucking, First Aid pulled out a flashlight and shined it into both of Drift’s optics until Drift angrily turned his head away and snarled. "Enough." First Aid snapped. "If you just worked with us we could help you. Why don't you tell me how your t-cog got misplaced." First Aid saw Drift wince and grimace, further burying his face into his pillow. "You know Ratchet might be able to find you a replacement and install it into you. All you have to do is tell us who the bots are that did it to you." The medic waited, sighing as Drift kept his optics squeezed shut.

"I'm not telling you slag." Tone full of venom, Drift didn't notice First Aid turn and head over to small cart where he fiddled with a few things.

Head spinning, Drift felt a wave of nausea splash over him. He could taste bile in his mouth, and for a moment he thought he was going to purge but swallowed it down. He kept pulling on his hands, wiggling them the best he could until he felt his left wrist suddenly slip a bit in the restraint. His finials perked up when he realized it wasn't as tight as the others and he might be able to get free if he kept working on it.

He stopped wiggling it when First Aid turned back around and came to stand by the side of his berth again. He glared daggers at the young mech, that was until First Aid grabbed the line to Drift’s IV and pulled it closer. A needle was in his other hand and he quickly punctured the tube, injecting the pink liquid into Drift’s line.

"H-hey! What is that?! What is that?!" Drift pulled on his right arm which the IV was embedded into. His optics swirled and shrank as he watched the liquid flood downwards and into his arm. He felt a slight burn as it started to disperse through his system. "Stop! Stop! What is it? Stop! Please!" He kept tugging. "No! No! No!" Spark, fluttering in his chest, he felt his strength being sapped from him and his tugging slowed. He panted, finally resting back and putting all of his effort into keeping his optics open. Suddenly extremely tired, he looked at First Aid with half open optics. "Why are you doing this to me?" His voice was a whisper now, the fight all gone now.

"To help you, it's a tranquilizer to keep you complacent with us. You may be just a gutter mech like all the rest but you're our best shot at finding whoever is out there doing all this crap in the Dead End. If it was up to me I would have left you out there to bleed out, but Ratchet wouldn't do it. He sees something in you, you should consider yourself lucky. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the free energon and warm berth while you can. You're safe here and nobody is going to hurt you except yourself if you don't settle down."

"You're all the same." Drift’s optics were barely online. "I'm not safe anywhere. Never..." He huffed, optics offlining as he passed out.

 

* * *

 

Jerking away, Drift startled himself as his optics flew open. He was stone still on his berth until he remembered where he was. It must have been later in the day considering the clinic was much quieter now with the exception of a few muffled coughs and sniffles behind other curtains. There was no sound of movement or tools clattering around, just the soft breathing of bed ridden patients like himself.

Licking his lips, Drift picked up his head a bit to try and get a better look around what part of the clinic he could see. He could see First Aid sitting at his station with his head bowed as he was reading something on his data pad. His back was to Drift, no doubt thinking he was still asleep. He was glad First Aid couldn't see him right away; it gave him the chance to wiggle his left hand in the restraint to try and pull free. He could feel it continuing to slide over his hand, and it got stuck about half way, making it a bit uncomfortable. He tugged a little harder, though quickly stopped when he heard First Aid shift at his desk. Putting his head down and turning his optics off, Drift was as stiff as a board as he tried to pretend he was sleeping. He remained like that for a few minutes before peeking one optic opening and seeing the young student still at his desk reading.

Another hard yank and his hand popped free, and a rush of relief came with it as he held his hand up to his face; he couldn't believe he had done it. Wasting no more time than he already had, Drift quickly undid his other hand and sat up. He reached for the IV and paused, his hand trembling as he stared at it.

Closing his optics, he grabbed it and yanked it out, hissing as it stung and sent a bit of the IV fluid spurting across himself and the berth.

First Aid jumped up as a light flashed on his desk signaling one of the patient’s spark monitors suddenly flat-lined. He dropped his data pad, turning quickly to head to the patients ward but found something hard connecting with the side of his face, knocking him sideways. Knocked silly, he fall backwards, tumbling back against his desk and sinking to the floor as his visor flickered and finally offlined as he was knocked out cold.

Drift winced, waving his fist in the air as the blow had actually hurt his hand. His side throbbed as his weld was irritated once again and he set his hand down on it to try and sooth the pain. He felt lightheaded and the desire to purge again started to travel up his intake. Shaking it off, Drift hurried his way to the clinic’s main entrance and found himself nearly jogging out as the doors opened and the cool outside air hit his damaged armor.

He put as much distance between himself and the clinic as he possibly could, looking down when he started to pass the corner store to avoid the other gutter mech’s optics. He could feel them all over him, hear some of them laughing when they registered he was wounded and limping.

He pushed past them, just trying to go on his way but he heard one whistle behind him. A bot moved up behind him, already too close for comfort.

"Not looking so good Drift." One of the nails sang playfully as they walked around to Drift’s front. "You look like something the turbo fox dragged in, but worse. What is the boss going to think when he sees his best frag toy all busted up like this and he wasn't even the one to do it?" The mech was shoved aside as Drift snarled. "He's going to be mad at you Drift. What if he thinks you tried to run away again? He's going to take away your pretty little vocalizer and maybe your optics! If you keep making the boss mad he'll do worse than remove your cog!"

"Shut up!" Drift snapped. "He won't! I do what I'm supposed to! I do! I get the credits, I work like the others! I wasn't trying to run! I was shot!"

"Oh, we know you do." The mech slapped Drift’s aft hard. "We can all hear it. We can all hear your screams and cries. What a good frag toy you are. It's all you're good for these days." The mech stopped walking and watched as Drift trudged off into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

Ratchet stacked the energon cubes in his arms, counting out how many he had and how many more he might want. He had already stored a few into his subspace when he suddenly heard his com-link go off and flash a bright red, signaling it was urgent. He sighed, seeing it was from First Aid.

"What." Ratchet grunted after he pressed the button on his arm to let First Aid hologram flicker upwards in front of his face.

"We have a problem."

"How did this become a ‘we’?" Ratchet handed the credits over to the vendor and continued jamming cubes into his subspace, really having to shove the last one to get it in there.

"Yeah well-" On screen First Aid rubbed the back of his neck as he cleared his faceplate.

"What happened to your faceplate?" It was difficult to see but the visible dent was there.

"Yeah about that- The cog-less patient got away, and by got away I mean he punched me right in the face and walked out." Ratchet was walking out of the medicine shop when he suddenly stopped and just stared at First Aid.

"You better not be talking about Drift." Ratchet could have sworn he felt his energon boiling in his lines. He left the kid one job, one job that was tied down for Primus' sake. "I said to watch him!"

"I was! I did! One second he is sleeping the next he's knocking my lights out. He's really good on his feet, I didn't even hear him coming, I swear! Ratchet I didn't do this on purpose!" First Aid pleaded but just seeing Ratchet’s look get angrier and angrier, he trailed off. "I'll go find him..."

"No, you stay right where you are, I'll go look for him. You better have a berth ready for us when I get back with him. Tend to the patients that are already there, keep checking them for welds like Drift’s. If any of them have them keep them in the clinic and question them." Hanging up the com, Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose and stomped one ped in utter frustration.

 

* * *

 

"Just tell me if you have seen him!" Ratchet snapped at the corner bot who took a few steps back from him in fear. He probably hadn't expected Ratchet to be so terrifying up close but Ratchet could easily ground pound these wimps if it came down to it. It was no secret that medics are much stronger than they let on to be. "It's a medical emergency!" The fool would fall over and bleed out again if he tore open his weld. In fact he might disembowel himself if he was really stupid and at this point, Ratchet didn't doubt it might happen.

"Why should we tell you anything, medic? What's in it for us?" A tall and slender bot circled Ratchet, looking down at him with one bag optic. As he came around, Ratchet took a quick glance at the bot’s side, seeing the familiar sloppy weld. He shifted on his peds, seeing one other bot in the group with a weld as well. As it seemed Drift wasn't the only victim to suffer a missing cog. Off to the side there was a bot huddled under some boxes, his arms wrapped around his knees. When he picked his head up to look at the commotion, Ratchet could see a weld running down the front of the mech’s throat, no doubt his vocalizer was removed. So it wasn't just cogs they were after.

"Listen, if you tell me where I can find him," Ratchet held up his hand three small round balls sitting between his fingers, "You can all have these and a roof over your head tonight, a warm berth to sleep in. How does that sound? Fair trade for one mech’s location don’t you think?" He smirked when the bot’s optics lit up.

"Is that-" The bot perked up.

"High grade energon candy. The best kind credits can buy." He pulled his hand back as a bot tried to reach for them. "No, tell me first."

The mech leaned back and gave a quick glance to the other pleasure bots behind himself. They were all nearly drooling at the sight of the candy and whining for it. Looking back at Ratchet, the mech took a deep breath and looked off into the distance.

"Drift was never like us. Not from the point he boss dragged him here right up until now. He's always been different, at one point gave us all hope. Hope that we would all have a better life." Cocking his head, the mech set his hand down on his side with the weld mark. "But the boss breaks all free spirits, and when he broke Drift, he snapped everything inside of him and turned him into whatever he is now. Terrified. Afraid to disobey. You should have seen him, before the boss got to him. He was quite the swordsman, but the boss took his blades." The mech turned and looked at Ratchet. "When Drift wants to be alone he heads off to a supply house not too far from here. He either goes there to sulk, boost, or frag when he gets a client." Some of the bots around chuckled, and the bot speaking to Ratchet glared back at them. "The building is red."

"I'm not interested in those things. I'm his doctor, he needs medical attention." Handing over the candies, the bot nearly snatched them from Ratchet and handed them out to the mechs around him. "I have one last thing to ask you." He saw the frustration on some of the bots’ faces as he just wouldn't go away and leave them be. "Who is the one taking parts from you? It has to be somebody new around here." Ratchet noticed the mechs all take a step back from him; some of them had visible fear spread across their faces.

"It's not something that should be talked about." The tall mech said. "You see, if we disobey the worse that happens is we get a beating, or an extra hard frag. Punishment for trying to run away from the boss is it takes your T-cog so you can't transform, you're slower and more vulnerable. He has an obsession with the fragging things. He always goes after them first. He just can't wait for another bot to try and run away so he can just farm them for their parts. Bots that try and tell others, bots not inside our circle, about what is going on get their vocalizers cut out. No way to tell about the boss if you cannot speak about it. Sometimes they will even take our optics. Sometimes both at once. Leave us like shells."

Ratchet rubbed his chin in thought; maybe this was just as much about sex slaves as it was stealing organs.

"Bots who betray the boss get killed off. I am sure you have noticed on your way to your little clinic that some bots that once stood on the corner no longer inhabit it. It's not because they found a better life, it's because the boss put them down himself. Ever since Drift tried to run, whatever they did to him, he doesn't seem to enjoy your kind. Medics, that is. He isn't fond of them. There is no mercy here out on these streets. I cannot say anymore, as I’ve already put myself in danger just telling you that much. Do me a favor and get as far away from us as you can."

"Listen, as promised, you can have a roof over your heads. My clinic is open to you tonight, and only tonight. You can seek shelter there. It has a blast shield on every door and window so if your boss decides to up and show up he certainly isn't going to get in. When you get there, there will be this little medic there as well. He will be confused but just tell him I sent you and he will understand exactly why you're all there." A fitting punishment to fill the clinic with pleasure bots and overwhelm First Aid for a little while for letting Drift out of his sight.

Watching as the mechs nodded and helped each other along, Ratchet looked up at the sky. Storm clouds were rolling in quickly and he could smell rain in the air, all the more reason to hurry up and find Drift just in case they both get stuck out in the rain.

In a hurry, Ratchet went back to the clinic, using the back door to avoid First Aid so he would be really surprised when the mechs showed up in droves. He gathered a few supplies and dumped off the energon he had bought at the store. Putting it all away, he put the new supplies into his subspace, which consisted of a fully loaded sedative syringe. A part of him wondered if he should have taken the sedation pistol. If Drift tried to run at least Ratchet could close the distance with a single dart which would no doubt drop Drift.

Hopefully he wouldn't have had to come to that and he could coax Drift back gently. With all the more information he had gathered, he felt a bit of pity for the mech. He was young and scared and just needed help, and Ratchet was going to give it to him.

 

* * *

 

Drift staggered into the supply house, limping his way up a ramp and to the second floor. The building creaked around him, some of the metal walls clapping together as the window blew. It wasn’t the best place, but it was enough to keep the weather off his head.

Making his way to the corner of a room, Drift looked down at a pile of blankets all bunched up in the corner. They were dirty and sometimes got wet when it rained but it was the best he had. It was far better than going back to the boss and seeking shelter under him knowing he wouldn’t be too pleased with what had happened.

Nearly collapsing onto the blankets, Drift pushed his back hard against the wall and took in a staggered breath. His frame ached all over and he was utterly exhausted from the tranquilizer still working its way through his system. Most of all, his side was killing him, and he could feel the mesh patch on his side had become sticky, no doubt from energon staining it.

“They won’t take your vocalizer. They won’t take your optics. I haven’t done anything wrong. He won’t take them, he can’t. I have done what he wants.” Gritting his denta, Drift looked to the side where a board on the floor was slightly warped. He wasted no time pulling it up and sticking his hand down into the floor to retrieve a small booster vile. It was cracked and some of the booster had leaked out, rendering it nearly useless. “Frag!” He threw it down, covering his face with his hands in frustration. He leaned back quickly, hitting his head on the wall a few times and snarled. “Stupid! So stupid!” Coolant streaked down his forehead as pain radiated through his side and up into his chest.

“You’re telling me.” A voice echoed through the warehouse, startling Drift enough that he clumsily got to his feet. He squinted, then stepped back until his own back hit the wall. “How did you find me?!” He watched Ratchet walk up the ramp, his strut casual. “How?!” Curling his hands to fists, Drift tried to look frightening but failed terribly.

“Listen kid, I don’t want to fight you. You need to come back with me to the clinic for treatment. You’re not well. Your patch is even stained.” Ratchet pointed and watched Drift give it a small glance. “I can help you; you can’t run away from this.”

“I’m not going back!” Pressing his hand to the mesh patch, Drift took a step back, his finials dipping downward. “You can’t help me!” He jerked to the side, trying to make a break for it but Ratchet had been ready for him to bolt. He was quick behind Drift, much faster than him in fact, and had no trouble grabbing Drift and bringing him right down to the floor.

They grappled, or more so Ratchet dodged each punch Drift tried to land on him. He struggled to keep Drift’s arms down, getting hit once in awhile by a fist but shaking it off rather quickly.

“Get off! Get off me!” Sheer panic as he felt Ratchet putting more and more weight onto him.

“Stop fighting me!” Ratchet snarled as one of Drift’s fist grazed his cheek. He pushed Drift down harder, earning a loud wail of pain as Drift’s side was irritated in the fight. “Enough!” No matter how much he yelled Drift didn’t want to hear it and only wanted to get away.

“I won’t! I won’t go! Stop!” Drift bucked his hips hard, launching Ratchet over himself and making the medic land hard on his front. It didn’t take Ratchet long to recover as he was instantly back on his feet and headed for Drift who couldn’t crawl away fast enough.

As Drift tried to reach the ramp to get down stairs, he hadn’t noticed Ratchet reach into his subspace and pull out a loaded syringe. He bit the cap off, squeezing it as he came down hard on Drift and dug his knee into the mech’s back to keep him pinned face down.

“I really didn’t want to have to do this to you again, but you are leaving me little choice. I have enough in this thing to take down a wrecker for a few days.” He grabbed one of Drift’s finials to help keep him still.

“Wha-NO!” Drift jerked his head hard feeling Ratchet’s grip on him tighten and the knee dig harder into his back plating. “Nng! Stop it!” Reaching out his hands, Drift dug his servos into the floor. He left deep gouges, trying to get any kind of leverage to get away but Ratchet was too heavy.  “I don’t want this!” Drift wailed, energon spurting from the side of his mesh patch as he strained his frame. “Please! Just let me go!”

“Kid, I cannot leave you here and you certainly are not staying here with the kind of injuries you have. You’re in critical condition and you fight like you have nothing more than a scratch. You still need a lot of work done; I haven’t even finished working on you. So I am going to do my job and fix you. Once you are repaired and you talk to Orion Pax about all that has been going on around here, you will be free to go.” Drift bucked under him again and cursed. He snarled, fangs glimmering in his mouth as he kept trying to shake the medic off.

“I’m not telling Pax slag! Frag off of me!” He reared, throwing Ratchet off balance a bit from him just enough to get free. “I can’t-” Before Drift could even get to his knees Ratchet was on top of him again, pinning him right into the floor boards. Coolant built up around Drift’s optics and threatened to spill over the hand with the syringe in it made its way down to his neck. He felt the tip press against his energon line and his optics widened.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t do this! Please! Please! I’ll do what you want! Just stop! Stop!” Coolant rolled down Drift’s scuffed cheeks and he whimpered as the needles pressure remained but never pushed down more. “Just don’t take me back to the clinic, please. I’ll do what you want.” He blubbered, his hands weak as they kept clawing at the floor. He squeezed his optics shut, expecting Ratchet to ignore his request, but when the syringes pressure was gone; he relaxed and nearly melted into the floor. “Just don’t take me back I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to.”

Ratchet kept sitting on Drift for a moment, just looking down and watching him whimper into the floor and curl in on himself. He was wheezing, and fear was all that could be seen in his quivering optics. He was dirty and caked with energon, probably starved half to death. Ratchet took pity, despite the mech’s pitiful look, there was something beautiful about him, not that Ratchet could pinpoint it right away but he could feel it.

“You can’t stay here.” He felt Drift shift under him nervously, not making a move, even as Ratchet slowly stood up. “It’s just not safe here.” He knelt down, hooking his hand under Drift’s arm and helping him to his feet.

Ratchet let Drift’s arm go, watching him take a few steps back from him but not to try to bolt; maybe it was because he knew Ratchet would always catch him.

“I can take you back to my place. It certainly isn’t the clinic and it is better than this hole.” He looked around, seeing the gross blankets Drift had lain on. “I can patch you up there, get you some food and a warm berth to sleep in, deal with all of this in the morning. It has been a long day for the both of us.” He noticed Drift step back again, and now Ratchet was getting impatient. “Listen kid,” Ratchet crossed his arms, “You either come with me to my home, or I drag you kicking and screaming all the way back to the clinic.” Where he would no doubt instruct Drift to be restrained again to the fullest and kept under watch. If Drift was smart he would take the first option.

Drift perked up a bit and moved closer to Ratchet, though he pulled on his servos nervously. He wasn’t sure if Ratchet was being sincere or a dirty trick would be played later. Either way he was cold and hungry and, overall, tired.

“Is it safe?” Drift’s voice cracked, fearful. He was confused by Ratchet's silence, weary about him all together. “Is it far?” The further it was away from this place and the clinic, the better.

“Yes, as safe as it gets. You’ll be safe with me, I promise.” Ratchet gave Drift a soft smile as he watched him nod. “Good, come on then,” For a moment Ratchet was planning on transforming and driving out, but remembered Drift no longer had that ability, “we have a long walk.” As Ratchet turned, Drift hesitantly followed him. He looked around as if they were being watched and then moved outside with Ratchet, keeping his head hung low as the rain poured down over the two of them.


	4. Corner Store Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little stuck on who I want to be the Gang "Leader" to be. I have 2 characters I have been considering...

Drift stood quietly in the hallway as Ratchet fidgeted with the lock on his apartment door. Flinching when he heard the lock click, Ratchet went in, but Drift remained in the hall a moment.

            "You can come in." He heard Ratchet say from inside. Waiting only a moment more, Drift entered cautiously.

            The apartment was surprisingly cozy. Data pads were stacked on an end table and all over bookshelves. Furniture looked new, like Ratchet never used them much. Walking into the center of the sitting room, Drift remained, fidgeting with his still crooked Audio fin.

            "Stop touching that." Ratchet said rounding the corner with some things in his hands. "I'll fix it later." He dropped his things on the table then vanished again.

            "It...hurts though." Drift muttered, looking around some more. Two large windows looked over the city, the rain drenching the glass and thunder rolling. Stepping back, he bumped Ratchet, startled he turned quick and hit his shoulder on the wall, knocking photos down.

            "Didn't mean to startle you." Ratchet side stepped and gave Drift some room. "I need to check your weld." He pointed to the stained mesh and Drift looked down.

            "Uh...It's fine..." He moved past Ratchet but the CMO only rolled his optics.

            "Sure it is." Taking Drift by the arm, he led him to his room and pointing to the berth. Drift looked at him, anxious, intakes suddenly sucking in more air.

            "But-" Ratchet crossed his arms and he looked down, knowing if he refused Ratchet would take him back to the clinic.

            "Just sit down. I'm going to do a physical then fix your weld. Since you tore it in the first place..." Gently, he pushed Drift forwards, happy he was listening. "Good, now you just have to tell me if anything is bothering you. Anything hurt?" Ratchet gently palpated the wires on Drift’s neck, taking note that they were still swollen. Moving down, he examined Drift’s arms, seeing all the puncture marks from the boot viles he had used and old marks from past usages.

            "Uh..." Drift swallowed hard. "I-I'm not sure." He thought ratchet would give him a look of disapproval but instead his look was soft. His movements gentle and kind unlike the grappling battle they had earlier. "Everything hurts....I guess..." Rubbing the back of his neck, he cleared his throat and looked back at the medic.

            "It's a start." Ratchet motioned for Drift to lay down, and he did, though he gripped the berth sheets instantly.

            "Relax." Ratchet said, gently pulling Drift’s hands from the sheets. "You're fine." Moving on, Ratchet leaned over him, pulling off the ruined mesh and tossing it out. "Hmm..." With a clean cloth, Ratchet began to wash away the dried energon, occasionally hearing a small whimper from his patient. "Still holding, though the metal is irritated." Turning, he got a cube of high medical grade energon, dipping his cloth into it. "This will sting." He says before running the cloth along the weld. Drift shoots up, his face twisted, but he forces himself back down, hands covering his face.

            "Nnnnngg!" Legs bending a bit, he bites his lip. "It burns." He managed to say.

            "I can give you a painkiller if you like." For a moment he saw Drift consider it, but shake his head. Not surprising since he seemed to be afraid of anything entering his body. Not that Ratchet blamed him, he could only imagine what had happened to him to make him this way.

            Finishing the cleaning, Ratchet added a fresh patch of mesh then moved on. Palpating his lower abdomen, he felt for anything unusual. The further down he got the more and more Drift tensed until he heard him gasp. Pulling his hand back, he observed, pressing down again, Drift hissed in pain.

            "Hurt?" Ratchet turned to look at Drift but he didn't say anything.

            "No..." Coolant streamed down his forehead.

            "Are you sure?" Ratchet placed his hand on the weak spot.

            "Ye-AH!!" Drift sat up again, Ratchet had dug his fingers in deeper.

            "I have been doing this a long time kid..." Ratchet raised a brow at Drift’s glare, allowing him to sit up and rub his stomach.

            "It's nothing. Just...sore from...." He exhaled and choked out the word, "Surgery." Ratchet squinted, but stepped back.

            "Right...well I assume if anything was really hurting you you would let me know right?" Turning, he began to do something out of Drift’s sight. Afraid he was going to pull another needle, Drift got ready to run. Only when Ratchet turned with a glass full of dark green liquid did his frame sag in relief.

            "Drink this."   

            "What is it?" Drift took it regardless, sniffing it, but it had no scent.

            "Something to help boost your immune system." Drift looked at the liquid again, then drank it quickly. "Uhg!" Head tilting to one direction, he shivered.

            "Taste like scrap." He noticed Ratchet was smiling.

            "All medicine does. Now, do you want me to fix your audial?"

            Setting the glass down, Drift brought a hand up to the bent metal, it was still sore from the last time ratchet tried to fix it, but it was his fault it didn't get done.

            "Yeah...." Drift leaned back a bit when Ratchet stood in front of him, for an old guy he moved better than he expected.

            "Hold still." Ratchet cooed, taking the fin in his hand, he slowly bent it back into place. Luckily it only needed a slight adjustment and only caused the slightest of discomfort.  "Better?"

            Drift touched the fin before nodding slowly, he looked absolutely exhausted. Maybe that was just how he looked after being an addict in the Dead End, but he looked completely wiped out.

            "You need to recharge." Ratchet moved away, going to the door. "You can recharge in here."

            "Where will you recharge then?" Drift had not observed a second bedroom, which meant this was the only one.

            "Don't worry about me kid, just rest." Flicking the light, he felt Drift alone, and for a while Drift just laid there staring up at the ceiling. Getting uncomfortable, he sat up on his elbows wincing when pain shot through his stomach.

            Looking through the doorway, he saw Ratchet not too far away sitting at a desk. One hand holding his head up as he looked over a data pad. Narrowing his optics, Drift noticed that Ratchet was sleeping sitting up, probably used to it having worked in the clinic so much. With a loud sigh, he set himself back down, but it wasn't long before the pain in his stomach grew. Tossing and turning, he groaned. After a few hours, he finally slipped into recharge.

 

* * *

 

 

Ratchet’s hand slipped and his head hit his desk, jerking upright, he shook his head, dazed. Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back in his chair and peered into his room. Drift was on his side, but then he turned, then turned again, and Ratchet heard a soft whimper. Getting to his feet, Ratchet stretched, extending some of his plating and yawning before walking over to his room. Drift, still in recharge, tossed again before curling into a small ball on the berth.

            Slowly, Ratchet moved to his side, placing the back of his hand on Drift’s forehead. Drenched in coolant, Drift’s fever had spiked. Leaning into Ratchet’s cool touch, Drift’s expression was pained.

            Very gently, Ratchet moved the hand Drift was using to hold his lower abdomen, not surprised to see the metal discolored and swollen. He shook his head, disgusted suddenly.

            "Frag kid, is there anything they didn't do to you." He whispered before Drift’s optics dimmed online.

            "R-Ratchet?" He sounded like he was about to sob.

            "Right here." Ratchet was moving around, having grabbed a cloth and soaked it with cool water, he placed it on Drift’s forehead. "I'm right here kid." If Drift had more internal injuries, he would have to take him back to the clinic to fix them. Bringing Drift here to rest without fear was one thing, but performing the kind of thing he needed for Drift's abdomen required better tools and maybe even First Aids help.

            "Drift...." Ratchet spoke over his loud panting. "You and I both know how much of a terrible liar you are..." He engaged his medical field, hoping it would ease Drift’s reaction a bit at his next sentence. "But you're suffering more than you are telling me and I need to take you back to the clinic to fix the problem.

            "No, It doesn't hurt that much, honest." He moved away when Ratchet tried to touch his abdomen. His breathing not becoming more rapid.

            "Drift."

            Coolant tears formed in the corners of Drift’s Optics, but he pushed them back down.

            "I...." He gritted his denta before nodding. "O-okay. Okay...." He was hauled up bride style, Ratchet having no trouble carrying him.

  

* * *

 

 

First Aid was face down on his desk when Ratchet came in. Startled, he sat up, knocking data pads and files all over the floor.        

            "I'm up!" He turned, watching Ratchet step over several of the Corner bots asleep on the floor since most of the beds had been taken. "Something happen?"

            "Come here." Ratchet went into the surgical theater, feeling Drift’s fingers suddenly dig into his plating. "Don't be afraid." Setting Drift down on a table, he had to keep a hand on his chest to keep him from rising.

            "What are you going to do?" He grabbed Ratchet’s hand, worried.

            "First Aid, I need the kit for Interfacing injuries." Ratchet stopped First Aid dead in his tracks.

            "Did you Uh..."

            "No. It wasn't me." He snapped as First Aid prepared a cart with tools. Once he pushed it over to the side of the bed Drift started to hyperventilate.

            "Drift, relax...Drift..." Ratchet could see him slipping away into panic.

            "I need to leave....I need to leave....I need to leave." Drift tried to get up again but Ratchet was still firm.

            "I need an anesthetic, and a tranq." That sent Drift over.

            "No!" He grabbed Ratchet’s hand, after he had recharged some of his strength was back. His servos leaving dents now. "It' nothing! Just leave it!"

            "Drift stop!" Ratchet snapped, which made Drift pause a moment before returning to his thrashing.

            First Aid was quick, a needle in each hand, he stuck Drift in the thigh with the tranq, making him cry out and buck.

            "Drift, trust me alright." Ratchet’s voice was soft. "It's only to take the edge off. I promise." Drift’s struggles slowed, his bright blue optics quivering as he stared back at Ratchet’s. Swallowing the knot in his throat, he slowly released Ratchet’s arm. Frame relaxing, he leaned back. "Good..." Ratchet smiled, gently rubbing Drift’s shoulders, glad that he was making some progress with him. "You're doing just fine." Motioning for First Aid, Ratchet released Drift.

            "Scan the others for this. If any show signs of this kind of damage, treat them and get as much information out of them as you can."

            "They won't give up their leader’s name. They are all too afraid. I tried." First Aid handed Ratchet the anesthetic.

            "Well try again." Watching the student leave, Ratchet pulled the curtain and kicked the table, allowing legs to extend. While Drift was losing himself to the feeling of weightlessness, Ratchet put his legs into the stirrups. Expecting Drift to rebel, he was surprised when he allowed Ratchet to continue.  "Drift..."

            Drift looked down at him, his optics spinning as they zoomed in on him slightly.

            "Open your panel." And with a loud click, the panel opened and out came a mass amount of energon and lubricant. Already Ratchet could see how swollen both his valve and outer node were. Several cuts and tears lining the valve, clear evidence of forced entry with no preparation. Ratchet gritted his denta, furious that someone would do such a thing.

            "Stop staring." Drift said in a half drunk tone, his cheeks bright red with embarrassment.

            "No wonder why it hurt earlier. If the inside looks anything like the outside, you have collected a lot in your chamber." Pulling up a chair, Ratchet sat between his legs, sticking him with the anesthetic, he heard him make a soft grunt of discomfort before his whole lower half was numb. "Just lay back and relax."

            "Whatever you say...doc." He giggled, then looked at his hands, perplexed by them.

            First Ratchet cleaned the outer area with high medical grade antibiotics, which reduced the swelling in minutes. Just enough that Ratchet could slide a speculum into the valve. Drift leaned back, tensing and whining as the pain became a dull ache. Once in place, Ratchet made sure to coat the inner valve walls with high grade, ignoring Drift’s soft grunts.

            "Nice finger work." He wiggled.

            "Spare me." Ratchet flashed his light inside, seeing several more tears and the ceiling node. Just beyond it was the chamber were lubricants and transfluid would be held. Normally it would seep out, but since it was swollen it was trapped, causing the discomfort in his belly. Higher grade and the swelling came down, and so did a waterfall of transfluid and energon.

            Drift exhaled suddenly, bliss on his face as the tension was relieved. Lucky for him, if he had waited any longer, he would have gotten a rust infection.

            "That should feel better now." Gently removing the speculum, Ratchet pushed a dissolvable medical grade pill into Drift’s valve. Over time it would burst and absorbed into the walls, speeding the healing.

            "Over already...." Groggy optics rolled as Ratchet put his legs back down and covered him with a blanket.

            "I'm pretty sure the real you would be very glad it's over." He saw Drift smile, which made him smile.

            "I still don't want to be here."

            "Well, you're on the road to recovery." Drift frowned now, looking away. "What?"

            "Nothing." Rolling on his side, Drift had his back to Ratchet. Too bad Ratchet didn't know that when he was discharged, all this pain would just start over. It was the fate of the Corners, The leakers, the Addicts, the pleasure bots. It was all just pain, all the time.

            Sighing, Ratchet placed a hand on Drift’s back, very gently running up and down his spinal struts.

            "I need to talk to First Aid, if I leave for a while will you stay? Or do I have to tie you down again?"

Drift didn't answer right away, only shifted under Ratchet’s touch.

"My whole body feels like a wreaker is sitting on me. I'm not moving anywhere anytime fast." He was mad at Ratchet, and he had a right to be. Still having no idea what Drift was so afraid, all he could do was rub between plating.

            "If you would cooperate then we wouldn't have too." He felt Drift tighten under him, his words triggering a buried memory. Plating rattling, Ratchet walked around the bed and knelt by his head. Grabbing his hands, he looked into the terrified optics.

            "Drift, tell me...." Ratchet begged. "What are they doing to you?"


	5. Red Candy

Ratchet squeezed Drift’s hand, but he didn't respond to him right away. Instead he pulled one hand away and touched his throat, swallowing hard.

            "I....can't tell you." Dimming his optics quickly, he tried to force himself into recharge so Ratchet would stop asking.

            "Drift..." Gently, Ratchet touched the side of his face, using his thumb to stroke his cheek. "We can help you."

            "Nobody can help me." He rolled over again, and Ratchet shook his head. Leaving Drift be, he walked over to First Aid’s station.

            "I see you have been busy tonight."

            "Yeah, thanks for inviting them all in." Stacking back up his data pads, First Aid sat down.

            "They will be out by the morning."

            "Let's hope so, I have had to separate three of them from fragging. Do you know what that's like? It's not fun." Obviously exhausted, First Aid let out a ragged sigh. "What are you going to do with him? You can only help him so much you know."

            "Everything I can."

            "Are you trying to prove something? Make up for all the patients you lost? Why are you so set on saving this kid?"

            "He's different." Ratchet sat down as well, glancing across the room at Drift. He had rolled over again, and from there Ratchet could see him trembling.

            "Ratchet he isn't any different than the rest. Drugged up, over sexed, and beaten. The Dead End is the Dead End for a reason-" He gave Ratchet a puzzled look when the old medic pat him on the head.

            "One day you will understand."

            "Well it sure as hell isn't today."

 

* * *

 

 

The clinic settled as the night went on, nothing but the soft beeps of spark monitors and the intakes of all the Corners could be heard.

            Drift lay on his side, staring at the wall before he heard his name being called.

            "The boss has been looking for you Drift." The Corner bot that Ratchet had given the candy to slither up next to him. "He's been wondering where you have been hiding."

            "I'm not hiding."

            "Well, you better go find him before he comes to find you." The bot smirked, his optics flashing a sadistic look. "You know what happens to those who make the boss angry." A clawed servo traced a wire on Drift’s neck, and Drift drew back, his optics quivering.

            Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ratchet asleep by his desk with First Aid doing the same. Looking back at his fellow mech, he grimaced and stepped out of the bed. A hand firmly on his mesh patch, he limped to the door.

            "Don't worry, I won't tell them where you went." He winked as Drift left, several of the other corner bots whispered, fearful of what would happen to him.

           

* * *

 

 

The outside of the gray warehouse, Drift looked up and around the building. The building itself was falling apart and covered in rust, a perfect place for a gang hide out since it was also hidden among others just like it.

            He walked in, ignoring all of the other addicts and pleasure bots who whistled at him. Continuing up a few ramps, he made it to the top floor, slightly winded.

            "Drift...." A low growl sounded from across the room. Coolant streamed down the side of his head as he kept walking forwards.

            "You were looking for me." He bowed slightly, optics locked on the floor.

            "Hmm, that I was." Tarn stepped forwards, red optics glistening. "I was worried you had tried to run again." Large hands cupped Drift’s face, forcing him to look up. "But you wouldn't do that again would you?" He squeezed Drift’s cheeks, making them budge a bit.

            "N-No..." He couldn't stop his legs from shaking, feeling weak suddenly. "I was caught in the fight a few days ago. The clinic...." He felt Tarn yank his head closer to him.

            "Ah, so my spies are correct. You wouldn't have said anything to them that would make things more difficult for us? Would you?" The sharp talons now dug into his cheeks, and he whimpered. Tarn’s free hand was groping around his armor, sticking him between his seams. "I didn't think you would try to betray me after what I made Pharma do to you." A talon grazed his mesh patch.  "There is still so much more I can take from you Drift. I have a lot of customers. Maybe your optics." His grip tightened when Drift tried to pull back. "You have the most gorgeous Optics out of all of my inventory." A dark laugh rolled from his vocalizer.

            "Please don't....Please." Intakes hitching, he began to panic. "I didn't betray you. They were just fixing me..." Pulling the mesh off, he showed Tarn the nearly healed weld, also revealing Drift’s now slender belly.

            "Mhmmm...." Lust filled Tarn’s eyes and in a split second Drift was forced face down on the floor. Aft up, Tarn scraped his servos over Drift’s back, his whimpers only fueling his arousal.

            "I have been lonely without you here, the others don't amuse me as much as you do. They don't have perfect afts..." He forced Drift’s interface panel off, hesitating only a moment. "And what gift this is." He traced around the outer edge. "Looks like new." No swelling, no tears, only the slightest dribble of lubricant.

            Digging his fingers into the floor, Drift whimpered. The last time he tried to get away, Tarn made sure Pharma ripped his T-cog out of him. But Drift figured, if he tried to run this time, maybe they would just kill him, it had to be better than this. They could do whatever they wanted with his body, sell it, use it, as long as his spark was a peace finally.

            " _Nnngh!_ " Biting his bottom lip, he felt Tarn slide a claw into the valve.

            "You know I don't want to hurt you right Drift?" The claw inside of him pressed against his walls, rubbing delicately. "You are my most profitable prostitute." Leaning over, he saw Drift’s faceplate a slight shade of pink. "But I do have to make an example of you. Orion has been getting closer to finding us, and I have to make sure all of my inventory stays quite." Jabbing his claw into the inner walls, Drift wailed. Energon streamed down Tarn’s hand as he kept pushing. "Maybe we should do something about that clinic."

            "P-please..." Drift tried to push up off the ground, but Tarn backhanded him. He stopped moving, energon seeping from his nose as he submitted.

            "That's a good bot." Grinding his pelvis into Drift’s, his spike popped out. The room's atmosphere changed, the corner bots who were in the room all having moved away now. Saying nothing, all they could do was watch, glad it wasn't them this time facing Tarn’s wrath. "Since you seem to love them so much, you can do the honors of destroying them." Drift could only wait, feeling the spike sliding up and down close to his valve. "Pharma has been working on a new little drug called ‘Red.’ I think you will make for the prefect test subject." Then it came, the feeling of the spike tip at the entrance, then the unbelievable pressure that came with its instant intrusion.

            Drift’s front half shot up, mouth open, no scream, optics shorting out. Tarn grabbed him, pulling him up to his chest while his hips jerked up into him, a mix of energon and transfluid splashing the floor. "I'll frag you better than that medic ever will." He whispered into Drift’s audiles, ramming his little frame until his screams were heard outside.

 

* * *

 

 

"If you keep doing this to him, you will kill him." Pharma knelt over Drift, having been tossed down on the ground when Tarn had finished with him. Transfluid and Energon covering his legs and lower belly, Drift lay still, Optics glitching on and off.

            "He's the only one who has been able to live through my beatings." Tarn had his back to them, looking out a window and down at his corner bots. "It's why I like him." He smirked.

            "He does have history with Megatron after all."

            "Long gone history." Pharma pulled a syringe from his subspace, flicking it. "Are you sure you want to use him?"

            "Oh yes." Turning, Tarn knelt by them, grabbing Drift by his chestplate and yanking him up. "I want to see Deadlock tear them apart." Watching Drift’s optics slowly come back online, he heard him whimper.

            "I won't."

            "You don't have a choice." Jerking him down, he let Pharma to his work. He leaned over him, and smirked when Drift realized who it was.

            "No...." He tried to get up, but his whole lower half was numb.

            "Hello again." Pharma smirked, "Glad to see you are managing without your T-cog." Holding up one of his hands, several of his fingers transformed into knives, needles, and other tools.

            "NO!" Drift punched him, only angering him enough to stick his fingers deep into the plating of his leg. "Ah! Stop!" He cried through clenched denta.

            "Slight pinch." He mused, sticking the syringe with the blood red liquid deep into the side of Drift’s neck."           

            "Stop! What is that?! What is it?!" He roared when Pharma only dig his fingers deeper into his armor.

            "Something to bring out the con in you." Pulling away, he watched as Drift’s body convulsed, blue optics shifting red with a bright flash.

            "Yes, that's it." Pharma coaxed. "Come on, Deadlock. Come on out." Stepping back, he watched Drift stand, pure rage on his face. "Now...Go to the clinic, and kill everybody there."

            "My  _pleasure_." Drift rolled his neck, smirking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so if you are wondering why I chose Tarn, its because Drift in MTMTE is afraid of the DJD killing him, so I felt like it fit well in this anyway.  
> Yes, dark chapter. But more to come!


	6. Shallow

"How do a half dozen prostitutes just vanish?!" Ratchet shouted, slamming his fist down on his desk. "Even the cameras are showing blank footage. How!? Why don't they want help!?" Storming around, Ratchet grabbed a table, violently tossing it.

            "Just let them go. They are not our problem anymore. Can we just go back to fixing the pit fighters?"

            "That's not the point! Someone is trafficking, and stealing organs as well. Orion and his team won't be around for the next few days to head out there."      

            "Orion is coming back?"

            "Yes, him along with a few others will be heading into the Dead End and clearing out all they can. In hopes of cutting the gang activity or even better yet catching the leader in the act."

            "But they have done it before and found nothing."

            "I know, but that was before we had Drift. He just needs to trust us."

            "He's afraid of us."

            "I made progress with him. He was coming around." Shoulders sagging, Ratchet began to worry. "I have to go look for him..."

            "Uh...." First Aid raised a hand at him, "you don't have to go far." Pointing at the security camera footage, he pointed at Drift who was standing along in the front lot.

            "What's in his hands?" First Aid leaned closer to the screen. "Looks like swords."

 

* * *

 

 

Drift was still, his optics hidden as Ratchet ran outside. Not even flinching when the medic came closer, Ratchet stopped in his tracks. Exhaling, smoke erupted from Drift’s mouth as he looked up.

            "Drift?" Ratchet saw the flash of red.

            "No..." One sword rose, pointing at Ratchet, "Drift is gone." His voice was deeper, angrier.

            "Drift what happened?" Ratchet could see energon stains on his armor. "Put the swords down. Just tell me what happened." Engaging his medical fields, he moved one more step closer.

            "What happen? I get to kill you that's what IS going to happen." Both swords were up now, a sinister grin on his face.

            "Drift....I'm not going to fight you."

            "Good, make it easier for me-" He lunged, swords swinging, " _TO KILL YOU_!"

            Ratchet leaned back, the sword skimming his chest plate. Spinning around Drift, he smashed his elbow into the back of his neck.

            As Drift fell forwards, Ratchet looked at First Aid who was standing by the clinic door.

            "Get something to tie him with! Something not right with him!" He shouted before a foot swept him off his feet. Landing hard on his back, he felt Drift straddle him.

            "You are fast for an old mech." Sword tip at Ratchet's throat, Drift chuckled, digging the blade in till he saw energon. "Got to kill you though."

            "Drift, what did they do to you?! Come on snap out of it!" Ratchet shouted at him, his hands gabbing his audile fins and shaking him. "Drift!"

            "Drift is dead!" Bringing the other sword up, he jammed it through Ratchet’s side, shivering in pleasure at the loud shout Ratchet released. "Oh~ That's it. Scream for me! Like I had to for them!" He twisted the blade and Ratchet howled again.

            "Stop!" First Aid came running, slamming Drift over the side of the head with one of the medical trays, bending it right in half. Drift didn't even flinch from it, but his cheek had cut open, seeping out red fluid.

            "Huh?" Ratchet watched it stream down and drop down onto his chest plate. Before he could react, Drift was up and walked towards First Aid. Ratchet tried to sit up, but Drift had left his sword in his side, pinning him to the ground. "Drift don't!" Grabbing at the blade, he pulled.

     First Aid scrambled with the door code when Drift grabbed him from behind and rammed him against the wall then pulled him back and did it again. Getting close to his audio receptors he said, "That wasn't very nice." Pulling him off again he threw the student to the ground. "Do you treat all of your patients that way!?" As First Aid back peddled, Drift grabbed one of his legs and hauled him up and over, slamming him to the ground again and again until pieces of his armor skittered around on the ground.

            "First Aid!" Ratchet wrenched the sword free, hauling his frame up and charging Drift, grabbing him and slamming him into the side of the clinic, indenting the wall with their impact. "Get inside!" He shouted, struggling with Drift as he thrashed.

            "But you’re hurt!" First Aid was collecting himself, his visor cracked.

            "Get your pistol-" He and Drift fell to the ground, rolling a few times before Ratchet forced himself on top. "Load it with the Tranq darts. I have a plan."

            "But he'll just burn through them! His energy field is too high! They won't have any effect."

            "Just do it!" Ratchet ducked from a punch.

            "How can you have a plan when you are already dead?!" Drift head butted the medic, watching him shoot back and fall. "I'll kill you with my bare hands!" Atop of Ratchet, Drift’s servos wrapped tightly around Ratchet’s neck. "I'll kill you and that other medic! And the one who took my cog! I'll kill you all!" Fire lit in his optic.

            "D-Drift...." Ratchet grabbed his arms, trying to pry him off.

            "THERE IS ONLY  _DEADLOCK_!" He screamed. A loud hiss of air sounded from behind them and Drift's shoulder jerked. "What?" Glancing over, he could see a large dart sticking out of his armor. While he was distracted, Ratchet used a free hand to jam his fist into Drift’s belly, irritating his weld.  "AH!" He jumped up, pulling the dart out and collecting his swords. Standing back from them a few feet, he growled.

            "First Aid, stay back and take shots when you can."

            "What are you going to do?" He watched Ratchet extend to shallow blades from inside of his wrists. "Ratchet..."

            "Look at his face...were you cut him. His energon, its red." He pointed with one of the blades, following Drift as he paced. "He's has been drugged. I have never seen this kind of reaction before to anything on the streets. So I do not know if anything we have will take the edge off. But one medical practice has never failed to fix it...." He stepped forwards, holding his blades up, "I'm going to bleed him out."

            "But you could kill him..." First Aid never lowered the pistol.

            "That's what the tranqs are for, hopefully if he loses enough Energon he will tire out, and with the added medication, he will fall on his own." Nodding First Aid got ready.

            "But what if I hit you"

            "Doesn't matter, just do what I say." Launching at Drift, he sliced, his blade sparking against Drift’s.

            "Think you're so smart do'yah?!" whipping his arm, Drift pushed Ratchet back. "You're blade is shallow...mine is long. I have the advantage."

            "We’ll see." Ratchet lunched again, ducking under a swing then slicing at Drift’s side. Drift spun, a hand touching the wound, shallow enough to bleed but not enough to be fatal. The red liquid stained his hand and he growled.

            "Tsk..." He turned to face Ratchet, but jerked to the side when another dart struck his back. "Ah!" Turning, he ran for First Aid, but Ratchet was there, tripping him and slicing him several times. By the time Drift stood, his beautiful white frame was drenched in red, along with Ratchet’s hands. "You fragging-" clashing with Ratchet again, sparks flying.

            "I'm going to help you Drift."

            "I don't need your help!" He sliced Ratchet's shoulder then tried for the other. Blocking Ratchet kicked out his legs, Ratchet rolled and stood. Taking a few steps back, he let Drift stand. Looking him over, he was littered with small slices, all about a foot long. Two more darts, then a stagger and Drift fell, catching himself on his sword, he stayed on his knees panting for a moment.

            "Give up Drift."

            "NO!" Using hat last bit of Strength he had, he ran, charging Ratchet and ramming into him. Both went down and Ratchet kept slicing until Drift had no choice but to back off. Falling back, he was barely standing, sliced to ribbons.

            Ratchet motioned for First Aid to stop shooting, it was just a matter of time before Drift’s body would be too much for him to handle.

            "It's alright Drift. It's over." He watched Drift try to put pressure on his wounds, but the red liquid just kept coming and he saw the familiar look of fear in those red optics. "You can stop now." He watched a look of confusion cross his face as his optics glitched from red to blue, back to red.

            "R-Ratchet?" His voice was as it was, and he staggered forwards, falling quickly.

            "I'm here kid, I'm here." Catching Drift before he fell to the ground, Ratchet gently laid him on his back, holding his head and shoulders in his lap. "You're safe." The optics still struggled to change color, an internal battle happening between Drift and his dark side.

            "I'm so angry...." Drift wheezed. "I want to hurt-" Ratchet shushed him.

            "You have been drugged, I'm going to take care of you now. First Aid and I are going to take you inside. Patch you up."  
            "No, just leave me here. Let me bleed out." His optics dimmed. "I'm done..." the deep voice came back and a growl sounded. His face pure rage as he looked up at Ratchet, who only returned the look with a gentle smile.

            "No more talking."

 

* * *

 

 

Optics slowly coming online, Drift shifted, whimpering as his whole frame ached. As everything came into focus, he noticed that he wasn't in the clinic, rather someplace else. A familiar berth, so soft and warm, and a familiar medic by his side. Arm extended, a tube connected their arms, a greenish-pink liquid flowing from Ratchet’s arm to his own.

            "Good to see you’re awake." Ratchet’s voice was soft.

            "What are you doing?" Trying to sit up, he hissed in pain and laid back down.

            "Transfusion. I had to use all of the available packs at the clinic to flush out your system. I didn't have enough to restore you with...so I'm giving you some of mine."

            "What happened? I don't remember...."

            "Wherever you vanished off to this morning, it got you into trouble. This-" Ratchet held up a small vile of the Red liquid, "If what made you go on a rampage. You were full of it." Putting the vile away, he removed the tube from his arm and Drift’s then put a small mesh patch over it and stood slowly. "First Aid and I patched you up in the clinic, but I brought you back to my apartment. Figured you would be safer here. All of the wounds I inflected on you will be gone by the morning. I made sure to cut shallow. The high Grade I put on you should take care of it. You just need rest now." He went to leave but Drift caught his hand. For a moment he said nothing, but his blue optics quivered and he opened his mouth.

            "Stay."

            "What?"

            "Can you stay in here, tonight?" Faceplate suddenly getting hot, he felt stupid now for asking.

            "Let me get a chair."

            "You can lay beside me..." Slowly, Drift pulled himself over, leaving room for Ratchet. There was an awkward silence before the medic sighed and laid down.

            "If you insist." Laying on his side, Ratchet dimmed his optics, surprised when Drift pushed against him, snuggling close to the medic’s chest. Hesitantly, ratchet draped his arm over him, expecting him to not like it, but he smiled and offlined his optics below him.

            Ratchet lay awake for a long time, gently rubbing Drift’s back as he recharged, looking him over. The kid was horribly skinny, having been through the ringer, he looked the part. His paint chipped and dull, he still glowed. Still the most beautiful creature Ratchet had ever seen, he gently stroked Drift’s cheek before finally slipping himself into recharge.


	7. Corner Store Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry this is really late! There was a mass power-outage and I couldn't get online!

Several bots bolted down an alleyway, smashing into each other and tripping a few of the up. Panicked, they were a horrible clumsy mess.

            "Get up! We can't stop!" Drift yanked the fallen bots up, throwing him forwards. "If they catch us-" They rounded a corner, skidding to a halt as they looked up at the dead end, "Slag!"

            "What do we do now!?" A small pink bot paced, grabbing his head and shaking it. "We are so fragged!"

            "We have to back track." Drift pushed the bots aside, looking around, the area unfamiliar. "Come on." Running again, the bots followed until Drift rounded a corner and stopped, all the bots behind him running into him.

            "Where do you think you are all going?" Pharma stood on the other side of the alley, a sinister grin on his face. "You wouldn't be trying to run now would you?"

            "Oh no..." A small bot behind Drift backed up, "We're dead!" All of them began to panic, backing away towards the dead end.

            "We can fight him!" Drift stood firm, fists up now, his Optics full of anger. "He's outnumbered." he spread his legs, in a battle stance, hoping the others would follow his lead.

            "Is that so?" Phrama was right by his head, and Drift couldn't react to his speed fast enough. A hard fist rammed into him, knocking him back into the others.

            "Scatter!" Drift heard over the static in his audio.  
Every bot for themselves!"    

            "Yes! Make it more fun!" Lunging forwards, blades shot from his wrists, slicing a bot that was cowering behind Drift.

            "No!" Drift’s face was splashed with Energon as the bot was sliced in half. Both pieces fell in front of him, his optics shaking.  "Primus!" Getting to his feet, he ran, taking as many turns as he could to try and get away. Hoping Pharma didn't know this area well either.

            Panting, Drift stopped to catch his breath, hearing screaming in the distance, then a stomach wrenching silence.

            Unable to hold back, Drift threw up, wiping the corners of his mouth, he tensed when he felt something behind him.

            "Feeling unwell? I can help, I'm a doctor." A searing pain shot through his shoulder. The sound of metal crunching followed.

            "AH!" Falling onto his knees, he grabbed his wound, seeing Pharma’s blade through it. It twisted out, making him wail while Pharma paced around him slowly.

            "Tarn doesn't like it when his inventory tries to bail on him." Backhanding Drift, he fell onto his back. Propping himself up on his elbows, he tried to drag himself back.

            "Stop this..." Bumping into the ally wall, his free hand held his shoulder, energon seeping through his fingers. "Please." His intakes hitched when Pharma knelt down by him, smiling.

            "What is the fun in that?" Holding his hand up, he extended several drill bits, enjoying the look of terror on Drift’s face. "You know, I didn't think this job would be that fun," Jabbing his hand into Drift’s hip, he smirked at the wail, "But I'm glad I was wrong." Twisting, energon poured onto his hand as he pulled away, then jabbed again into Drift’s leg. With his other hand, he extended a long needle and examined it before trying to jab Drift in the chest with it.            

            "N-No!" Grabbing his arm, he struggled to keep him back, the tip grazing his armor. "Stop!" Denta gritting, he threw his head back when the needle sank in and the liquid entered his system. Face twisting in pain, his hands clenched, his lines feeling like they were full of acid. As he convulsed and jerked, Pharma kept digging his hand into his leg "Ag! Stop! Stop!" Jerking forwards, Drift smashed his forehead into Pharma’s nose knocking the medic back enough for him to get up and start in a horribly awkward run. Leg hurting, Drift didn't even make it to the mouth of the ally before Pharma was on his back, slamming him face down on the ground and pulling his arms behind his back. Cuffing him, he growled.

            "You will regret that you worthless scrap pile."

 

* * *

 

 

Pharma shoved Drift and a few other bots he had caught down before Tarn, all of them now on their knees.

            Glancing to his side, Drift saw that the bot to his right had both of his wings seared right off, while the bot to his left suffered a hole in his chest plate and several puncture wounds.

            "Do I not treat you well?" Tarn stepped forwards, his hands behind his back. "Feed you? Give you shelter? Saved you from the streets?" He walked around him, and none of them dared move or take their optics off the spot on the floor they were looking at. "This is how you repay me? By running away?" Stopping in front of them he stomped one foot, making them all jump. "Do you know what happens to my inventory that tries to run away?"

            A gunshot, and the bot to Drift’s left fell face down, head in pieces. Drift's optics widened, covered with energon again, he felt Tarn grab his face. He couldn't tear his eyes away from those sinister red optics, and he could have sworn he heard the softest music coming from him.

            "I make examples of you all." He squeezed Drift’s cheeks, enjoying his whimpers. Tilting his head, he chuckled. "Are you afraid little mech?" He could feel Drift trembling. "You should be." Releasing him, he stepped back. "As punishment...." He turned his back to them, stepping over the body, "Pharma, remove their T-cogs."

            "No!" Drift shot up. "You can't!" He felt Pharma grasp his wounded shoulder and squeeze, forcing him back on his knees. "Please! I won't run! I promise!" Though it was no use, Pharma tugged on him, yanking him back. "Please!" He thrashed, yanking at the cuffs and screamed.

            "I will enjoy rooting around under your hood." Pharma dragged Drift down a hallway and into a side, room, throwing him far. Back slamming against a surgical table, Drift looked around. Energon was pooled on the floor and stacked on shelves were canisters with several different parts floating in them. "Your Cog will join them shortly." Advancing on Drift, he jerked back, knocking over tables and trays, sending tools clattering to the floor. Again, he yanked at his cuffs, still unable to break them.

            "Primus! Please stop! You can't do this!" Reaching the back wall, he was cornered.

            "I can...and I will." Kneeling by Drift, he bathed in the pure fear on his face. "You are so adorable with that look on your face." Pinching Drift’s cheek, Pharma stood, grabbing one of Drift’s finales and haling him up.

            "Ah!" Wiping down on the table, the cuffs separated and slammed his arms far apart, leaving him in a T-shape.

            "Don't go anywhere now." Leaving the room, Drift thrashed and arched his back, wailing in frustration. Coolant streamed down the side of his face and he felt his spark skip beats when He heard Pharma’s rummaging around with some tools.

            "Normally, we would induce stasis to remove a T-cog, but I think as a proper punishment, you watch me take it from you." Reentering the room, Pharma stood over Drift, scalpel in hand.  With his free hand, he ran his fingers along Drift’s slender belly, savoring the shudder. "Tarn made the right choice taking you in. You are by far the most beautiful creature I have ever seen." Flattening his hand, he ran his palm over the belly, feeling Drift’s intakes hitch. "And I get to cut you open." Lowering the blade, it hovered over his metal skin in a taunting manner.

            "D-don't! You don't have to do this! Do-" Head thrown back, mouth open, the blade sliced. Arms straining against the cuffs, Drift howled, coolant tears pouring out.   
“A-AAH!" He tried to arch away but his back hit the table and he couldn't escape the painful slice.

            "Oh don’t be such a sparkling." Setting the blade down, he slid his hand in, fingers wrapping around the T-cog. "Nothing like a young healthy cog." With a violent movement, the ripped the cog out, wires and all. Energon splashing all over, making the mistake of looking, he saw Pharma holding his cog in his hands.

            "Urrk-" Heaving, he puked off the side of the table, fame shaking, he felt himself falling off the deep end.

            "Do not worry. I will fix you, since Tarn doesn't want me to kill you." Drift didn't even feel Pharma jab him, but he felt suddenly groggy. Optics dimming out, the last thing he saw was his cog being dropped into a container and stored.

 

* * *

 

 

Shooting up, Drift gasped, grasping at his side and feeling nothing but his smooth belly. Drenched in coolant, he looked to his side, Ratchet missing. Suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, he let out a shaky voice.

            "Ratchet?" It was dark in the room, a creepy silence floating about. "Ratchet?" He became a little more panicked. "Ratchet!!" He shouted, his hands gripping the berth covers.

            "What? What?" Ratchet burst in, rushing to Drift’s side. He looked at him, then placed a hand to his forehead. "You're burning up kid. What's wrong? Are you alright?"  Saying nothing, Drift desperately struggled to keep the knot in his throat down.

            "Ratchet-" Wrapping his arms around the CMO's neck, he sobbed into his chest plate, not even trying to hold back. Choking on every breath, he wailed. The coolant tears pouring down his face he just cried.

            "Alright, easy now, easy..." Rubbing Drift’s back, he shushed him, calming him till his sobs were soft sniffles and an occasional hiccup. "Relax. I'm here now. You don't have to be afraid, you're safe."

            Ratchet held Drift for what seemed like eons, but he finally slipped back into recharge, his body relaxed in his arms. Still rubbing his back, he just sat there, staring at him. Faceplate still hot with fever, it was a light shade of pink, which in all honesty gave his face an adorable look.

            Gently, he laid down, pulling Drift close to him. Drift’s whimpers had woken him in the first place. Having gotten up to simply get some energon, he vanished for only a few minutes, and that was when had heard Drift calling for him. He had tied to listen to what Drift was saying in his sleep, but it was all to jumbled to make any sense out of it. Maybe it would be better if he had someone like Rung to talk to.

            Letting out a sigh, Ratchet just kept holding Drift, not leaving his side for the rest of the night.


	8. Opening

Drift shuttered his optics online, slowly coming out of recharge. Warm with fever and the hot air from Ratchet fans blowing on him, he inhaled deeply. Still snuggled close to the medic, he looked over the CMO. Optics closed, Ratchet was still in recharge, his face inches from Drift’s. Bringing his hands up, he gently rubbed Ratchet’s chest plate. Ratchet shifted in his sleep, a soft mumble escaping him. Staring at him for a while, Drift moved his head slightly closer, lips inches from Ratchet’s. Stopping a few centimeters away, Drift hesitated, then slowly locked lips in a tender kiss. Dimming his optics offline, he held it for a while. After a moment his optics came online and he jerked back when he saw Ratchet’s Optics open and staring at him.

            " _Ah_!" Sliding off the berth, Drift landed hard on the floor, face plate a bright red. "Ah...I....uh...." He covered his face, embarrassed that he was caught red handed. Expecting Ratchet to be angry at him, he was surprised by the silence. Removing his hands, he looked up. Ratchet motioned for him to come back on the berth, and slowly he obeyed. Laying flat on his back, he stared up at the ceiling, whole frame shaking now. Memories flooding back of things Tarn used to do to him when he did anything wrong when they interfaced. He flinched when Ratchet put a hand on his forehead.

            "You're still warm." His voice was soft, and his hand ran down Drift’s cheek.

            "Uh....I guess...." After a while, he leaned his head into Ratchet’s hand. "Really hot..." There optics locked, spark beating hard in his chest, he worried he made a mistake.

            Ratchet just stared down at him, occasionally stroking his finial. Blinking a few times, he watched Drift wither under him. He wondered when the last time Drift actually did anything to make himself feel good. Or was his life just constant pain?

            "Sorry I-" He tried to say, but Ratchet cut him off with a tender kiss, lips touching lightly, it only lasted a few seconds. When he pulled away he was met with those beautiful blue optics, then kissed him again.

            With each kiss, Drift waited for a strike, a punch, a kick, anything he was used to, but none of those things came. Each kiss brought him frame to a more relaxed position.

            "Drift..." Ratchet pulled away, not looking at him now. "I don't want to do this....If you are not ready. I saw what they did to your valve..." Looking back, he could see Drift in thought, no doubt remembering the encounters.

            "But it is better now....you fixed me."

            "I fixed your body. Not your mind." A gentle thumb ran over Drift’s cheek, feeling the heat radiation off of him. Drift’s optics dulled, spark hurting now.  Ratchet watched as his whole body seemed to turn gray. "But if it will help..." Gently, Ratchet leaned in and nuzzled his neck. "I will."

            Optics brightening, Drift groaned, tilting his head so Ratchet could get better access. Pulling cables, Ratchet ran one of his hands over Drift’s armor, careful of some of the still healing wounds. Keeping note that he would have to be gentle, he massaged in-between his seams. Working him a bit, he nibbled on a finial and kissed down his face, chest-plate, then kissed his belly, now healed and beautifully smooth.

            Glancing up from his teasing, he could see Drift chewing on his bottom lip, his eyebrows curved up, a hint of worry and pleasure in his optics.

            "You alright kid?" Ratchet kissed his belly again, rubbing his hips and massaging pressure points.

            "It's feels....nice." He arched his back, blushing, forked toes spreading. "Really nice."

            Glossa tickly his belly, he shivered, a hand sneaking down and grabbing Ratchet’s shoulder. "Mmhm." Intakes hitching, he let out a long sigh. This tingling sensation that built from his toes to his spark seemed unreal. Unable to recall the last time he felt this way, he gritted his denta when Ratchet’s hands massaged his aft. Struggling to keep memories buried, he pushed his hips against Ratchet, but the medic could feel how tense he was.

            "Relax." His voice sounded between kisses. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want." He could just tease him all day. The kissing and massaging was good stimulation for him. Working Drift for a while longer, he heard him snap back his panel while teasing his chest-plate.

            Drift's optics dimmed, glossy as a large amount of lubricant seeped out. One hand covered his face, embarrassed, maybe it was just the pleasure bot in him that was reaction to the stimulation, but at least he was enjoying himself.

            Ratchet ignored the open panel for a while, but he could not deny the heat radiating from his valve. Sliding himself back up, he kissed him, his hand still rubbing his lower abdomen.

            "Are you sure?" He could sense Drift’s fear, but at the same time his lust.

            "Y-Yeah...."

            "Alright, but you have to stay laying down. You are still low on Energon. I don't want you burning out." Reaching a hand down, one servo began to tease the outer rim of the valve. Ratchet was careful to watch Drift’s reactions, at first it was a look of worry, which slowly dissolved when Ratchet slide his finger through the sensitive lips. Thumb rubbing his outer node, Drift arched his back, groaning.

            "Ah-Ah!" He sat up slightly, hips pulling back, trying to lessen the simulation, but Ratchet kept going. "Nnng..." Flopping back down, he heaved.

            "Like that?" Ratchet whispered, circling the valve again, teasing the tip of one of his fingers. Watching for Drift’s reaction, he very slowly slide one in. Drift whined, servos pulling at the berth covers, his legs separating a bit.

             It was slightly painful, but Ratchet’s delicate movements eased the ache to a blissful tingle. Inner walls twitched when Ratchet rubbed an inner node cluster, and for a while he kept the pace before tease a second finger in.

            "Ah-hhhhha..." Bearing his denta, Ratchet slowed down, seeing the pain twist Drift’s face. Thumb returning to rub the outer node, pain again was replaced by pleasure and he was moaning again.

            Ratchet kissed down Drift’s neck, utterly turned on by his soft grunts. Not daring to slide a third digit in, he slowly increased his speed until Drift was withering.

            "Ah-aha~ Oh Primus...Oh Primus...." Twisting a bit, he grabbed Ratchet’s hand, forcing it deeper. "Ah! Yes..." Drenched in coolant, he looked up at Ratchet and began to nibble the medic’s neck. "Everything feels....so good." Jolts of pleasure shot through his spine as he felt something building. Something he thought he forgot how to feel. "R-Ratchet...I think....-" Tensing, his frame jerked up and he gasped. Arching off of the berth, his mouth opened, the slightest trail of drool down his chin. Spike suddenly shooting out from its housing and sending a jet of transfluid all over his own belly. "Nnnngk!" Legs bending, he yanked the covers. Ratchet held him as he shuttered, expecting him to short out, but instead he heard laughter.

            Drift, holding onto Ratchet now, was cracking up, his face now light pink as the afterglow washed him over with tides of forgotten pleasures.

            "That good huh?" Smirking, Ratchet pulled his fingers from the clenching valve, satisfied that they were drenched with lubricant.

"Aha...Hha...nmm..." bottom lip quivering, tears streamed from his optics. “Hahaha."

            Pulling him close, Ratchet sat up and rubbed his back, comforting him the best he could. Feeling Drift wrap his arms around him, he sobbed into his shoulder plating for a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

The apartment was quiet after Drift fell into a short recharge, peacefully laying on his side on the berth. Having scanned him while asleep, Ratchet read over his system report.

            "Hmm..." Except for the slight fever, he was improving monumentally. Immune systems were at an all time high, most wounds healed, he thought about taking him to a Paint N' Polish. Since he had planned for Rung to see him, he should look a little more presentable rather than a gutter rat.

            Setting down his data pad, Ratchet rubbed his chin then yawned.

            "What a night." Picking up a glass, he sipped energon gingerly before hearing soft steps. "How are we feeling?” Taking another sip, he didn't look up at Drift.

            "Better." Rubbing the back of his head, he too yawned. With a groggy look, he glanced around the room, for the first time actually taking in the apartment. A few pictures littered one wall while a large space held up a large screen, the volume low as the news streamed by on it. A large couch, which Ratchet was sitting on, his feet up on the small table. All together the place was rather small, but he figured since Ratchet lived alone, it suited him just fine.

            "Good. I have to go to the clinic in a bit, you can stay here if you like. But I would like you to meet me around noon there. I have someone I would like you to meet." He saw Drift shift uneasily. "Don't worry, I promise it's nothing like you are thinking." Drift didn't relax. "Then," Ratchet stood clasped Drift on the shoulders, "We are going to get you a new paint job."

            "You don't have to do that. My Paint isn't bad...I just need a buffing." Looking down, Drift ran his own hand over his scrapped chest plate. "Tarn doesn't like it when others are better looking than he is-" He jerked up right, optics shaking

            "Tarn?" Ratchet’s eyebrows connected.

            "Forget it! Forget what I said." Pushing past Ratchet, Drift moved to the other side of the room.

            "Well, at least now I know which one to scrap when I find him." Moving to Drift, he forced him to turn around. "Where is he?"

            "I can't say. I already said too much. If they find out." Placing a hand on his neck, he cleared his throat and shook his head, saying no more.

            "You have to trust me Drift. Please." Hand on his hot cheek, Ratchet have him a hard look. "Let me free you."

            Drift closed his optics, biting his lip. "I want too..." Grabbing Ratchet’s hand and nuzzling into it, he shuttered. "Gray."

            "What?"

            "It's Gray."

            "What is?"

            "That's all I can say." Pulling away, he walked to the window, looking down at the streets, frowning at the bots zooming around in their alt modes.

            "It's a start I guess. More than I had before." Gently, Ratchet rubbed his shoulders from behind. "Listen kid, I'm going to get you a new T-cog. You will be back on the roads in no time. Maybe I can introduce you to a few people, get you out of this pit, doing something better. You're special kid, I know it."

            Drift said nothing, his shoulders sagging.

            "I don't think I am cut out for anything other than being...this."

            "You are pretty good with blades." Looking over his shoulder he saw Ratchet smiling. "When this is over kid I think I know someone who will really like you. He's quite the bot. Hotheaded risk taker. He used to be called Hot Rod, but now he goes by Rodimus."

            "I don't know. I don't think I will fit well outside of this place...If I make it that far."

            "I'll make sure you do. Now, no more negative thoughts. Down that hall is the washroom, clean up and rest here a while. Don't forget to meet me at noon. There is plenty of Energon here if you get low on fuel. Understand?" Drift nodded and watched as Ratchet gathered a few data pads and stuffed them into his subspace. "Good."

 

* * *

 

 

Noon approached while Drift stood under the shower head, letting the water pelt his face plate for a long time. Looking down, he watched grime swirl around the drain and vanish.

            Did Ratchet really believe he was something more than just some pleasure bot? More than just some addict who almost killed himself. Did he really believe he could be something great? As much as he didn't want to, he doubted it. Tarn had whispered sweet words to him at one point too. Words that made the pain go away and the illusion of comfort in. What if Ratchet turned out to be the same? All this comfort and loving, to be turned against him.

            "Tsk." Scrubbing his armor hard, his white plating finally began to show through the layers of wear. By the time he stepped out and dried himself, he was much brighter. Feeling a little better, he noticed something on the end table. A pile of Energon candies and a small note that read,

            “They are for you."  Picking them up, he ate one, instantly shivering as it melted in his mouth. What a delightful flavor. Tarn never did things like this for him, maybe Ratchet was different.

            Putting the rest in his subspace, he left and made his way down the street.  Since he had to walk it would take him a while, he figured he would be a few minutes late but Ratchet wouldn't make a fuss about it.

            Making it only a few blocks, Drift was suddenly blocked by two bots, then two behind him. Recognizing them as his fellow Corner bots, he got ready for a fight.

            "The boss is very displeased with you. He wants to see you. But I don't think you will be seeing him for much longer." There was a dark laugh then a horrible shock. Wailing, he fell to his knees as the staff came down on him, shocking him again and again until he was out cold.

            "Do you think they will let us keep a few  _pieces_?"


	9. Beautiful Optics

Darkness. That was all Drift’s optics could see when they dimmed online. Body slack and heavy, he could feel himself being dragged, maybe by to bots, maybe three.

            How long he had been out, he didn't know, how far they had gone, he also had no idea. Pulling at his arms, he felt immediately exhausted. His frame was hurting, no doubt they had kicked him while he was down.

            For a while all he thought he could so was accept his fate and allow them to drag him off to wherever, but then he had an idea. Silently clicking open his subspace, he began to drop energon candies every so many footsteps. Hoping it would lead someone to him, but at the same time he hoped nobody decided to eat them.

            "The boss will like this. Wrapped him up like a present." He heard a voice snicker, then a second one.

            "Shut up, let's just get this over with." Drift felt them yank him hard, his legs now being dragged onto a metal floor, no doubt back at the main warehouse.

            Up a few rams, down a few halls, then he was thrown down, landing on his front with a loud clatter.

            "One bot captured."

            Tarn turned from where he was standing, his red optics sparking with anger when he saw Drift on the floor. Stepping down from the platform he was on, the bots who had Drift scrambled back quickly.

            "Drift..." His voice was a loud thoom. Kneeling before him, he let out a loud sigh. "My poor dear Drift." picking him up, he set him on his knees.

            "Frag off." Drift hissed, suddenly feeling the blindfold torn from his head.

            "What was that?" Inches from Drift’s face, Tarn grabbed his cheeks, growling. Optics shuttering, Drift’s eyebrows connected and he shouted.

            "Frag you!" Working something strong in his throat, he spit on Tarn’s faceplate. The brave look on his face quickly vanished when he saw his coolant he spit sizzling as it streaked down Tarn’s face. Then came the crushing rage of Tarn’s EM felt. Whole body quaking, his optics shuttered.

            Standing, Tarn had his hand around Drift’s neck, hauling him into the air as he struggled. Arms bound behind his back, he just kicked his legs at Tarn, not even scuffing his paint.

            "That was very rude." Throwing Drift down hard, he watched him slide across the floor till slamming against the wall. Barely having enough time to online his optics, Drift felt Tarn grab him again, wiping him up then back down until parts of shoulder plating clattered around.

            "You were my most promising bot, Drift." Kneeling down again, Tarn put a talon under Drift’s chin, forcing his battered face to look up at him. "I had such high expectations for you." Watching a stream of Energon run from Drift’s nose, he let out a dark chuckle.

            "Frag yourself." Drift bared his denta at the purple giant, getting backhanded.

            "Did that medic make your bearings larger?" Slamming a foot down on Drift’s back, he slowly put pressure on him, bending his armor till he felt internal parts snapping under the pressure. "You are more spirited, like your spark has been relit." Taking his foot away, he grabbed Drift’s legs, forcing him apart. "But, we all know breaking spirits is what I am best at." His talons traced up his inner thigh before tapping on his interfacing panel. "If I have to break you again, then so be it." His voice was low, the sound resonation through Drift’s frame, making his spark skip a few beats. Waiting for the panel to be torn away, he turned his head, not looking at Tarn. Only when he felt the talons slip away did he looked back.

            "Wha..." His face was gabbed and he was pulled to his knees, Tarn’s face inches from him again.

            "Look at those pretty little optics." Bringing his hand up, he extended one claw, slowly moving it closer and closer to Drift’s optic till he squirmed and whimpered. Lightly, the claw tapped the glass, static erupting in Drift’s vision. "The good news, my dear Drift is that as a pleasure bot, you don't need your optics." He felt Drift try to jerk back but his grip only tightened. "And you no longer need a voice, all you need is a good valve!" Whipping him down with all his might, Drift bounced off the floor. "I didn't want to have to make an example of you, but you leave me no choice." Snapping, Pharma came into view quickly.

            "Make him useful again." Was all Drift before Pharma was yanking him up.

            "Come on Drift, let's have some fun." he whispered to him before Drift bucked up, ramming Pharma and knocking him back.

            "No!" Getting to his feet, Drift glared the doctor down with rage in his optics. He looked around, hoping some of his fellow pleasure bots would help, but they cowered to the walls.  Growling when Pharma laughed, he watched the medic circle him.

            "Come along quietly and I won't have to hurt you more than I already have too." Watching Drift struggle with the cuffs on his back, he smirked.

            "You'll have to kill me..."

            "As fun as that would be, Tarn would do the same to me he is doing you. And I don't want that." Advancing on Drift, he sidestepped him when he charged and smashed his elbow into the back of Drift’s neck.

            Lights went out for a while, but as Drift opened his Optics, Pharma was leaning over him. Before he could react, Pharma dug his fingers deep into one of Drift’s shoulder seems, extending long drills, spreading the armor.

            "Ah! Stop!" He felt his frame being dragged, out of the main room and through the wall. "You can't do this! Ratchet will come!" He cried, spark pounding.

            "No bot can save you now."

 

* * *

 

 

Ratchet looked at the clock, a concerned look crossing his face.

            "Drift should have been here by now."

            "You did say he was afraid of the clinic." Rung was standing beside him, which shorter than Ratchet but much more lean.

            "Yes." Rubbing under his chin, he looked at the clock again. "But it's been almost a full half hour. It's only a short walk from here to the complexes." He could see Rung shift, adjusting his glass'.

            "It's not uncommon for someone to skip something like this. It happens all the time. Whirl, for one, used to skip all the time, but he came around soon." He tried to reassure Ratchet but the look of worry remained.

            "I'm going to head back, see if he is still recharging. In the meantime, while you head back to Iacon, tell Orion he is needed here urgently. The sooner we tell him about this new Red Drug, the sooner they can do a sweep of the area." He watched Rung nod and then he was off.

 

* * *

 

 

"Drift?" Ratchet opened the door to his apartment, stepping into the main sitting room. Nothing but an eerie silence. "Drift?" Stepping into his berth room, the berth itself was made but no Drift. The wash room was also empty, no sign of him anywhere.

            Stepping back into the main room, he took one last looked around before leaving. Heading back outside he looked all over.

            "Drift!" He shouted through the allies, listening to his own voice echo. "Frag kid where are you..." Walking a bit further he suddenly stopped, something bright blue catching his optic. Picking up the object, he held it up to the light. "Energon Candy. The high grade too." He looked around and almost missed another one. Hidden behind garbage, a small vermin was chewing on it. He let it eat it while he looked for more, and soon he found himself deep within the warehouse section. Hundreds of huge warehouses old and worn, most a dark red or blue color.

            As Ratchet walked, he only heard the soft squeaking of metal blowing in the wind. His trail of candies vanishing and he was left in the center. He could see bots slithering around in the shadows, all of them looking at him. Without looking up at anybody, he quickly typed into his arm, pulling up his com.

            "First Aid can you hear me?" There was statics for a while before the young medics faceplate appeared.

            "Ratchet? Where are you?"

            "Warehouse district. I think I may have tracked down where Drift is."

            "The warehouse district has hundreds of buildings. How do you even know he's there?"

            "I think he left me a trail. And besides, he told me himself...." He saw the puzzled look, then continued, "It's the gray one."

            "What?"

            "That's what I said." He smirked before typing in his exact coordinates. "I sent Rung to talk to Orion, but I need you to get a message to them. Tell them to send a team as soon as they can. There may be a big fight coming."

            "Ratchet, what are you talking about. You are not going to go in there alone are you!?" He watched Ratchet reach to end the com, "Ratch-!"

            Sighing, he lowered both of his arms and jerked them, his blades sliding out, and he began to walk towards the only Gray warehouse in the lot.

            "I'm coming kid."


	10. Knock Knock

Drift’s legs scuffed the floor as he kicked, trying to get stuck on anything to keep Pharma from taking him. Bucking, he cried out, but Pharma never released him.

            "Let go of me!"

            "So I can waste my time chasing you down like all that time ago? As fun as playing hide and seek is, I have more important matters ahead of me that need attending to."

            "Ratchet will come!" He was thrown into a room, sliding across and hitting the surgical table. Sitting up, he tested the bounds again, still too tight to break. "He'll come for me..." His whole frame hurt, his breathing coming out in soft wheezes.

            "You have to accept the fact that you are alone Drift." Grabbing an Audio finial, Pharma wrenched Drift to his feet. "It's just you, me, and Tarn." He whispered into his audio receptor, feeling him shiver. "I am surprised Tarn has allowed you to live so long, he usually kills troublesome ones like you immediately. It must be because of how," Drift could feel Pharma’s free hand trailing over his back, "gorgeous you look when you are being dominated." Then came a soft bit on his neck and he jerked away.

            "Get away from me you piece of slag." The venom was back and a look of rage crossed his face. His chest heaving no heaving, he growled, optics full of fire.

            "Oh, Tarn was right. You are more spirited. I like that." He shoved Drift back, making him trip up on the table and fall hard on his back. "Makes you so much more desirable." Pressing a few buttons on a console a few feet from the table, the cuffs on Drift’s hands separated, forcing his arms to his sides.

            "Tsk!" He bucked, back and hips coming off the table, but Pharma’s hand on his stomach made him lurch back down away from the feeling. "Don't touch me." His fists clenched and he snarled.

            "You are in no position to give me orders." His hands were back on him, running up his legs to poke into seams before rubbing his lower abdomen. Lust filled his optics quickly, and a look of mischief spread across his lips. "It has been far too long since I have had a bot of your quality. Your kind are rare." Leaning down, he kissed the abdominal plating, feeling it twitch under him. Each soft little kiss making the metal crawl in discomfort. Hands working the seams by his hips, he dug in and tugged delicate wires.

            The kisses moved further and further up till he was biting on Drift’s neck, enjoying his growls of protest. He tried to pull away, only managing to go as far as his restraints allowed. Shuttering his optics when he felt Pharma bite and pull on his neck cables, he gritted his denta.

            "What a shame I have to remove these beauties." Pharma hovered over his head, his finger grazing his finials. "I'll keep them close to your t-cog." He laughed when Drift jerked up, roaring.

            "I'll kill you!" Optics glowing red, he howled. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Metal creaked, straining as he yanked, threatening to tear his own arms off.

            "How cute." Pharma said before he was nothing but a blur. Drift slammed back, Blade at his throat, pressing in enough to draw energon. "But I am not easily intimidated."

            "Ah....ah!" Trying to arch deeper into the table, the blade sank into his throat a bit more, erasing his rage and replacing it with fear.

            "This should teach you to quit talking back."

            "Don't..." He pleased, his hands clenching and unclenching desperately. "Please. Don't do this. Please." The blade lifted away, and Pharma went down, licking away the energon. Shivering, Drift closed his optics, turning his head. Pharma pulled away, then smashed his lips against Drift’s, feeling him object.

            "Mhm!" Drift's head hit the back of the table, unable to escape the unwanted kiss. Pulling away, Pharma smirked, admiring the angry look he was getting. He tried to kiss again but Drift jerked his head to the side, growling.

            "You act like a fresh pleasure bot, not yet broken in. But you and I both know you have been at this a long time. Come on Drift. Show me the pleasure bot in you." Pharma’s hands snaked down to his panel, rubbing it gently. Drift's expression only seemed to get angrier and angrier.

            "I'm not your slave anymore." The line only made Pharma laugh, continuing his teasing until he felt Drift’s frame heating.

            "How often did you think about that Medic fragging you, Hmm?" He leaned close, whispering now into Drift's audio. "Do you think about it?" Nipping the side of a finial, he felt Drift’s body reacting to him. "Do you want him to spike you? Frag you till you beg for overload." He watched Drift’s face plate turn bright pink. "Would you like him to frag your tight valve? Fill you up?" Drift was squirming, biting his bottom lip, unable to keep the images out of his head.

            "Nnng..." Struggling to keep his panel closed, all he could feel were Pharma’s fingers putting more and more pressure on him and he couldn't help but think of them as Ratchet’s.

            "Open up." Pharma cooed, his free hand rubbing his inner thigh.

            "N-No..." Drift hissed through clenched denta. "I...I won't" He was panting, his chest heaving as his intakes inhaled quickly. "I'll kill you." He jerked when Pharma jabbed into his leg with his drills. "AH!"

            "If you want to be stubborn, so be it. You could have enjoyed yourself before I ripped you optics out." Pulling back, Drift watched Pharma move around the room out of his sight. Returning shortly after with a few things he set down on a tray close to the table. Among the many sharp instruments was a large jar, probably for his optics.

            Swallowing hard, Drift looked at the ceiling, pulling once more on the restraints.

            "Ratchet will come...." His voice was shaky, "He will come for me." He has to, Drift thought. "He'll come..."

            "No, he won't." Placing several lines all over Drift, he stuck him in the neck, earning a loud cry. "Don't worry. You won't be in recharge for this. Just something to take the edge off so you don' go into shock." As Pharma spoke, the room began to swirl. "You get to watch me work." He moved back to his tray, shuffling around with some things before turning back to Drift who was trembling. In his hand he had something Drift did not recognize, but its motive became clear as it drew close to his left optic.

            "Stop!" He cried out, unable to stop it from going in and hooking his optic. "Nng! Stop!" His arms strained and then came the horrible pain as it was wrenched from its socket.

 

* * *

 

 

Ratchet stiffened when he heard an energon curdling scream not too far from where he was. His walk became a jog, then a sprint as he made a mad dash for the gray warehouse. Ramming himself through the doors, he fall into the main floor. He stood slowly, brushing himself off before noticing several leakers moving in on him.

            "You are not welcome here medic." One hissed, one optic missing from his head. "Leave now!"

            "Where is Drift?" His tone was flat, but his face was filled with rage.

            "Drift who?" He motioned for the bots behind him to advance on him.

            "I'm not leaving without my patient." Holding his blades up, he touched them together, drawing sparks. "If I have to cut every one of you down," He lunged forwards, "So be it!"

            He cut them down with no trouble, nor did he think he would have trouble. Having fought alongside Orion himself he was battle ready. It was just time that was against him.

            "Drift!" He shouted out, listening to his own echo, then the stirring voices of other bots. He ran through, taking down as many bots as he could on his way. Running up the first ramp, he dashed down the halls, calling Drift’s name.

            "Get him!" He heard from behind. Spinning, he kicked down a larger bot, smashing him to the floor and putting his blade to their neck. "Tell me where Drift is and you live." The blade dug in.     

            "T-top floor! Top floor!" The leaker cried out, screaming when Ratchet’s free blade sliced his arm clean off.

            "That's more like it." Stepping off, he ran again, getting lost in the halls before entering the main room and seeing another ramp. In his way were several more bots, and they all charged, taking him down easily. At first Ratchet struggled, but he was much more nimble. Slicing them to pieces before they could retreat, they collapsed. The perks of fighting booster junkies were they were all too high to even stand straight. Standing, he groaned, the bots had gotten a few good shots in. Rubbing his side for only a moment, he headed for the main ramp.

 

* * *

 

 

Tarn stepped into the room as Pharma dropped Drift’s Optic into the jar. He walked over him and leaned down, whispering,

            "There is an intruder. I have evacuated most of the important stock. You must go."

            "But I am in the middle of something." He looked displeased.

            "It can wait till later. I want this intruder to think he got what he came for. Then I will shut him down myself." His voice lowered several octaves. "Now go." And without saying anything more, Pharma dropped his tools and left. Grumbling all the way down the hall before vanishing.

            Tarn turned, glancing at the one opticed mech for only a moment before leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Ratchet rammed a mech into the wall, continuing his rampage until he finally found an open door. Pushing it open, he lunged forwards.

            "Drift!" Nearly slamming into the table, Ratchet cupped Drift’s face. "Drift, Kids, it's me, I'm here." He watched Drift tremble, his remaining optic locked on the ceiling. He hiccupped and gagged on enrgon that was flowing from his empty socket down his face into his mouth. His hands clenched so tightly into fists Ratchet could tell he was damaging his palms. "Drift, I'm here now. I'm here." Quickly going over to the console, he punched the button to free him. With a loud hiss and pop, the cuffs came off, but Drift didn't move. Quickly going to his side, he pulled Drift’s torso into his arms, cradling him.

            "I've got you kid. Shh..." He cooed, hugging him tightly and trying to sooth him.

            "Gak!" He coughed, energon splashing Ratchet’s chestplate. "Ah!-A-AH!" He chocked, sobbing, his remaining optic finally moving to lock with Ratchet’s.

            "I'm here." Gently, he stroked the side of his face, brushing some of the energon away.

            "R-Ratchet? Ratchet." He wheezed, struggling to get a hand up to clasp onto Ratchet’s chestplate. "Help me. Help me! Help me!" He begged. "I can't...I can't see."

            Ratchet looked closer at Drift's other optic, it was slightly damaged, no doubt from when Tarn tapped on it with his claw.

            "I'll fix you. Hold on. Just hold on." Sliding Drift back on the table, he scavenged the room for tools. It wasn't long before he had Drift’s torn out optic in one hand and a clamp in the other. "This is going to hurt." He said, no point in lying to him now. Positioning the clamp with the optic, he held down Drift’s shoulder before one quick jerk. A familiar energon curdling scream and a jerk of the body, and the eye was in place.

            While Drift sobbed, Ratchet got to work reconnecting the lines, it took a lot longer since he had to keep one hand in Drift’s chest to keep him down. As he finished, the optic flickered, remaining dim as it rebooted.  Settling, Drift’s optic came online, though a large amount of static obscured his vision.

            "It's the best I can do of right now. I need to get you back to the clinic. I can repair you there. But we need to get out of here first." He pulled Drift off the table, setting him down. Drift’s legs gave out and he fell, only Ratchet's arm keeping him from hitting the floor.

            "I...I don't feel so well." Drift groaned, his stomach turning. Ratchet held him at an angle as he vomited.

            "Come on kid. You have to tough it out. I know you can." Hauling one arm over his shoulder, he pretty much dragged Drift down the halls.

            As they got closer to the bottom, Ratchet became specious at the fact he had not seen any more guards. Only when he saw a huge purple bot standing in his way, did he realize he was standing before Drift’s boss. The one who started all of this. The one Ratchet was going to tear

            "Stealing is wrong Doctor."

 


	11. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not think this story would get more than 4 chapters, but here we are.

Drift walked into Ratchet, quickly moving back when he heard Tarn. His voice sending shivered down his spin, making him flinch.

            "No no no no....we can't be here! We really cannot be here!" Snagging Ratchet’s hand, Drift tried to yank Ratchet away from the music. "Ratchet please!" He begged, his free hand rubbing his optics. Trying to look at Ratchet, static clouded his vision, only being able to see pieces of him. He squeezed the medic’s hand, hoping he would listen.

            "Drift," Gently, Ratchet pulled away from him, his blades extending, "Run, run as fast as you can back to the clinic. First Aid will protect you there. Orion is coming soon, just go." He felt Drift tug his arm.

            "I'm not going to leave you here with him! You don't know what he is capable of! I do! He'll kill you!" He begged, pulling him back desperately, coolant tears burning his optics. "You can't -" Stopping when Ratchet put a hand on the side of his face, he smiled.

            "Don't worry. Just go. I'll be along shortly." It took a moment but Drift finally released him and backed up. It took him a while to find the door, and he ran out.

            "You shouldn't turn your back on enemies." A hard punch to the side of the head and Ratchet went down. System scrambled, he regained his composure enough to roll aside when Tarn tried to stomp on him. "Breaking into my home without an invitation," Tarn's voice rumbled through Ratchet's audio. "It's rude." Standing back, he watched Ratchet get up and hold a fighting stance. His blades shimmering in the light, he growled.

            "It ends here."

            "My dear medic. It has only just begun." Tarn threw back his head, laughing before glaring at Ratchet with optics from hell.

            "Drift isn't yours anymore."

            "Is he yours?" Taunting the medic, he circled Ratchet, heavy peds shaking the ground with each step. "He is quite the treasure isn't he? One of the best I reined in I may say. There have been others...but they always reach their expiration date."

            "That day is not today."

            "Maybe it is yours." Lunging, Tarn threw down a large fist, Ratchet dodging, feeling Tarn’s knuckles graze his arm. Sparks flew, and Ratchet spun, bringing his blade down as hard as he could against Tarn’s back. More sparks and Ratchet was certain he had critically wounded him, but as he turned to look, Tarn’s back was unscathed.

            "What?" Confused, Ratchet was sucker punched in the chest plate. Metal crunching, he was sent flying, crashing onto the ground and rolling a bit.

            "You know," Tarn shrugged his shoulders, then brushed some dust from his arms, "When I first found Drift, he was someone else. Violent. Angry. Sinister." Kicking Ratchet in the side, he paced around him while Ratchet withered on the ground. "Lost in his own mind. His processor fried from boosters. He was covered in them. I have never seen a bot so eager for the well." Another hard kick. "He had these swords, beautiful, like his untouched frame at the time, and when I tried to touch him, he sliced me, even as high as he was, he stood and sliced my frame right open." Knocking on his chest plate, Tarn grabbed Ratchet by the throat, hauling him up and staring him down. "Drift was the only one who ever broke my amour seal."

            "He is something special." Ratchet said through clenched denta.

            "He served me well, but it's too bad I have to kill him."

            "Over my dead....body."

            "As you wish." Violently, Tarn sup, wiping Ratchet’s body with all his might. Through the first wall, outside, through a second warehouse wall, his body took out several shelves, raining crates down onto him. Dust erupted, and all Tarn could hear was the creaking of metal under stress. Stepping outside, he walked to the second warehouse, looking at the hole in the wall Ratchet’s body had created. Leaning in slightly, he could see Ratchet’s hand sticking up out of a pile of broken crates and shattered glass canisters. "Mhm..." Moving away, Tarn looked out over the warehouse lots, smirking under his mask. "Let the hunt begin."

 

* * *

 

 

Drift darted around one corner, stopping only a moment to catch his breath when he began to hear the softest of music playing.

            "No...."  _Ratchet._ Peeking out from the corner, he saw nothing in the alleys between the warehouses. Nothing but the soft wind rustling the loose metal roofs. No footsteps, no laughter, nothing but the sound of beautiful music.

            Spark pounding so hard in his chest, Drift put a hand to it, afraid it would rip right out. If he could hear music, then Tarn had finished Ratchet off. Why couldn't Ratchet just have listened to him? Tarn was to strong, to massive, playing on his home field, he had the advantage.

            Looking around the corner again, his optics glitches, sending static into his vision and making him step back, rubbing them. Irritated, he felt a knot growing in his throat. How could he have just left Ratchet? The thought burned him, how could he have done that to him. Why couldn't he just listen to him?

            "Hello little mech." Drift yelped, turning quick to see parts of Tarn in his cracked up vision. "It's dangerous to walk around alone." Backhanding Drift, energon flew from his mouth. Frame crashing to the ground, Drift yanked himself up, running as quickly as he could any way he could.

            "No!" Tripping over things, the music behind him only grew louder and louder. Only when he could hear Tarn’s large peds slamming the ground did he know he was being charged at. Whirling around, he was smashed to the ground by a large hand, the ground beneath him indenting a bit. Screaming, energon streamed from his mouth down his chin and onto his neck.

            "Thought you could get away?" Tarn rammed his faceplate against Drift’s, his Optics nearly burning him. "You can't every escape me!" Claws dug into the armor, and more screams came. Drift’s hands desperately grabbing the arm Tarn was pinning him with. The pressure only increased, and he could feel his armor cracking.

            "Please!" He sobbed, legs thrashing, he put one foot against Tarn, trying to get any kind of leverage against him that he could.

            "Please what? Please stop killing you? I think not." Picking Drift up, he threw him up and over, watching his body land harshly on the ground. "Stop punishing you?" Kicking Drift, a shoulder guard ripped off.

            Drift was on all fours, coughing into the ground when Tarn grabbed his head and yanked it up, rather enjoying the battered face.

            "Ah, what a sight. I love seeing you like this. All jostled." He was close, close enough that his glossa slid from under his mask and licked the energon from his face. "We had some good times, didn't we?" Releasing him, he stood. "Back when that clinic wasn't around. Back when things got done without trouble being made." Placing his ped on Drift’s back, he just left it there a moment, feeling Drift quivering under him.

            "Frag yoursel-" The ped crushed him, forcing his face into the ground. "Grk!"

            "I am going to enjoy tearing you apart like I did you medic." The words seemed to stab Drift, sobbing out, he cried,

            "NO!"

            "Yes..." He hissed, jamming his foot deeper into his spine, watching Drift hands clench into fists.

            "Just kill me then...." He said is a voice so soft Tarn almost didn't hear.

            "Just killing you out right is not my style," Stepping off, he pulled Drift’s head up, “slow and agonizing is."

 

* * *

 

 

Ratchet groaned, system warning flashing in his optics as they slowly came back online. Moving only slightly, a sharp pain shot through his side, having to force himself up, he pushed aside everything atop of him. Still sitting, he looked down, seeing a piece of piping sticking out of his side.

            "Frag..." Grabbing a hold, he yanked it out, energon spurting from the wound. Slowly, he stood, a hand placed firmly on the hole in his side.

            The warehouse was dark, except for the eerie light radiating off red and blue canisters on the shelves he had not knocked over. In the dim light, he couldn't make out what they were until he was staggering over to them.

            "What in the name of Primus." Tapping on a blue jar with a servo, a T-cog floated close to the glass. Similar jars where all around, parts floating in them, optics, cogs, anything that could be taken, was here. "Primus." Stepping back, he saw the red canisters, no doubt the drug Drift had been poisoned with before.

            A drug that caused intense rage, boosted strength and speed, was not something he would have liked in Tarn’s position. In the wrong hands it could be used for chemical warfare, or maybe to win Pit fights. Whatever the reason it was no good.

            Walking along the shelves, he stopped at a small canister.

             _Drift: T-Cog_

Ratchet read before grabbing the canister, smashing it open and dumping out the liquid before putting it into his subspace, a rather tight fit, but at least he had it.

            Gathering a few more things, he found a few small booster doses of the Red drug. Taking them as well, they would make for good evidence to convict Tarn of his crimes. Just in case his other lackeys tried to destroy it all before Orion could get a team here. Pushing them into his subspace, he jerked around when he heard loud screaming.

            "Drift!" Running for the main door, Ratchet stopped once more, seeing Drift’s swords on a half destroyed shelf. Snagging them, he took off, running in the direction he heard the yelling.

            With the wound on his side, his run was a clumsy job until he saw Tarn’s massive Frame over Drift, his claws sinking deep into the mech’s chest, deadly close to his Spark Chamber.

            "Don't you touch him!" Dropping Drift’s blades, Ratchet extended his own, standing a few yards away from Tarn. "This is between you and me."

            "Well look who woke up." Throwing Drift down and yanking his claws out, he approached. "My dear doctor, you seem to be leaking." The amusement in his voice peaked when Ratchet removed his hand, seeing it soaking with energon. Gingerly placing it back, he growled.

            "I'll live."

            "Not for much longer."

            "Get back!" Drift cried, his face bruised and soaking with energon. "Get back Ratchet! Please!" He coughed, everything was in agony. "Please Ratchet get away!" Watching with glitched optics, Tarn charged. Ratchet ducked, the move irritating his wound as he spin and sliced at Tarn, still not breaking the armor. Yet again and again and again he sliced and dodged until Tarn took advantage of him staggering in pain and punched him right in the stomach. Ratchet could feel his armor ripple. A soundless cry of pain escaped him as he felt Tarn’s knuckles dig into his protoform. Again and again and again he punched until the front of Ratchet’s stomach was dented and soaked with energon.

            One last punch and Tarn let him go, watching him stagger back while trying to stop the leaking. System failure flashing in his optics, he threw his arm up when Tarn came down for another blow, but he grabbed the arm instead.

            "It was a nice effort doctor. But I was the victor from the start." Grabbing Ratchet’s shallow blade, he snapped it off and rammed it deep into the medic’s side. There was a howl, but it was cut short when threw Ratchet in Drift’s direction.

            Scrambling, Drift caught him, the two colliding hard and falling.

            "No! No no no no no!" Drift cried, on his knees holding Ratchet’s head and torso in his arms. Frame and legs sparking, Ratchet didn't even try to move. Drawing in ragged breaths, he gritted his denta. "Why would you do that....?" Drift tried to stop some of the leaking, feeling the energon seeping through his servos. "Why did you have to come for me?" Coolant tears burned his optics. "He's too strong. He has always been to strong." Placing a one of Ratchet’s hands on his face, he felt the fingers tighten.

            "Because I love you kid."

            A single tear streamed down Drift’s faceplate, dripping down onto Ratchet’s cheek. Unable to say anything, he watched Ratchet’s optics struggling not to go offline. He was going to bleed out soon if he didn't get help.

            Ignoring Tarn’s laughter, Drift squeezed Ratchet’s hand, his bottom lip quivering.

            "Ratchet...." Armor rattling, he pulled him close, hugging him. As he released him something slipped out of Ratchet’s side, two viles. One cracked and leaking out red fluid, while the other still remained intact.

            Hesitant servos picked one up, looking at it in his palm before looking back at Ratchet, who could barely see or hear him.

            "It's my turn now." Gently, he laid Ratchet down, putting both of his hands on his chest, and grabbing his swords. Slowly standing, Drift turned to Tarn. Staring the purple mech down, he took the booster and jabbed it right into his neck. A hiss of discomfort as the liquid vanished, Drift pulled it out and threw it down.  Sword in each hand, his optics flickered red.

And then the  _rage_  came.


	12. Going out of Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for not posting as often as I used to, I hit a bad slump in life, I guess and was a little occupied for a bit. Also my Birthday is this Wednesday I I am unsure if I will post a chapter on Sunday, or Tuesday night. Stay posted.

Dust kicked up, whirling around Drift as the devil grin spread across his face. Optics blazing he let out a wicked laugh, pointing one sword at Tarn, the tip shimmering. Glossa slipping out, he licked the energon that had streamed down his face from his glitching optics.

            "Let's play."  Legs spreading, he crossed the blades and got ready to lunge.

            "You think that will save you?" Tarn flexed his armor plating, stepping forward and making sure to slam his foot down. "Why don't you just lay down with your medic and die." Hammering his fists together, Tarn advanced on Drift.

            "You will be the one to die today." Dodging a blow, Drift rolled to the side, skidding and slicing Tarn's shoulder blade armor.

Sparks, then the loud clatter of metal hitting the ground. Tarn turned, rage in his optics as he swiped at Drift, missing him. Another swipe, but this time skimming Drift chest plate, leaving a long slice across the front.

            He stepped back, touching at the wound, rubbing energon between his servos before sticking one in his mouth and purring.

            "Mhm...how I love that taste." Darting from side to side, Tarn tried to grab for him, unable to keep up with his speed.

            "You may be faster than me," He turned in place, watching Drift run circles around him, the tips of his blades dragging the ground a bit and kicking up dust, "But you will burn out."

            "Not before I kill you!" A jump and Drift spun, both blades slicing over Tarn’s arm as he blocked. "I'll kill you for what you have done!" Landing hard, Drift again was zipping back, slice after slice after slice. "Faster! Faster! Faster!" He shouted, picking up his pace till he was nothing but a white blur to the purple mech.

            Tarn, in a defensive stance, had both of his arms in an X form over his face and chest, taking each blow until the barrage stopped.

            Drift skidded to a stop, chest heaving, he brushed coolant from his forehead. Flinching when his optics glitched, he rubbed them, hissing in pain.

            Tarn lowered his arms, energon seeping from dozens of deep gashes Drift’s swords had left. Arm guards clattering to the ground, he lurched forwards, taking advantage of Drift's wounded optics.

            "Still a foolish sparkling!" Hammering a fist into Drift's cheek, Drift went down hard. Quickly, he collected himself and lunged his blade up, but his arm jerked. Looking up, he had to squint to see, Tarn had grabbed the blade with his bare hand, clenching it so tight his own servo was being sliced.

            "I grow tired of this game." Snapping the blade, he backhanded Drift, red energon splashing the ground. "You want to play with the big mech’s now? Fine!" Another hard blow, "You want to be torn apart? Fine!" A sharp kick. "You want me to destroy everything you thought you loved? FINE!" A hard punch to the jaw and Drift hit the ground hard. Grabbing a finial, Tarn lifted Drift’s battered face enough to look him straight in the optics. "I'm going to rip the medics spark out in front of you before I do the same to you." Slamming him down, Tarn stepped over him, heading for Ratchet who was only a short paces away.

                        Before Tarn could take a step, a hand gripped his foot hard. The enraged optics of the devil stared up at him. Baring his denta at Tarn, Drift roared.

            "I will  **destroy**  you." A voice Tarn did not recognize boomed out of Drift. With his remaining good blade, he sliced Tarn’s ankle supports, sending him to one knee.

            "Arg!" He tried to grab for Drift, but was only rewarded with another blow of the sword, slicing his arm clean off. As the limb hit the ground, Tarn gabbed at the wound, trying to keep energon from spraying out to fast. "You think this will keep me down." He hissed, a trail of energon seeping out from under his mask.

            "No..." The sword spun in Drift’s hands, red liquid trailing down his white frame and from the corners of his mouth, "That is why I will keep cutting. Slicing. Tearing. Destroying you. Like you have me." Throwing his head back, he laughed. "I'll pull you apart!" Bringing the blade down hard across Tarn’s chest, the mech could barely block. Taking several shots to his arms before they became a tangles mess of wires and metal. Only when Drift heard gun fire did he pause and look over his shoulder.

            "There he is!" He heard, a voice he thought was familiar. Squinting, static erupted in his vision field, blocking out the bots advancing towards him.

            "More of you I have to cut down?" Pulling his blade up, his glossa flicked it, tasting Tarn’s spilled energon. "Good." Grinning, he chuckled with a rather sinister tone. "More! More! More!" Looking back at Tarn, he could make out that the mech was struggling to stay balanced on one knee. The energon loss getting worse and worse, he kept his angry look. Tilting his head back a bit when Drift placed the tip of his blade to Tarn’s throat, he looked to the advancing enemies.

            "That's Drift! That's him!" First Aid came to a quick stop when he saw Ratchet on the ground. "Ratchet?!" Dashing to him, First Aid crashed to his knees by the doctor, panic on his face plate. "Ratchet! Can you hear me!?" Careful not to move him too much, he scanned him, the reading flashing red warnings in his face.

            "Get away from him!" First Aid didn't even see Drift coming, only the loud clank from metal on metal made him look up.

            Orion had his blade pressed against Drift’s, sparks flying as he pushed him back. Much larger then Drift, and much stronger, he had no problem knocking him down.

            "Stand down Drift!" Orion blocked another blow, twisting his arm so that his blade crossed over Drift’s, knocking it from his hands. "It's over!"

            "It's never over!" The red rage pulsed through him, sending waves of fury through their EM fields.

             "Don't hurt him!" First Aid shouted, "He has the Red drug in him!" He pointed out the red energon seeping from his wounds.

            Orion watched Drift walk from side to side before lunging. Without moving Orion caught Drift’s fist in his own large servos and gripped his fist so hard he nearly crushed his hand. Twisting Drift’s arm hard, He dropped to his knees and cried out. Sparks flying from his shoulder, he tried to pull away, unable to even budge the huge mech.

            "Let go of me!" Peds sliding for traction on the ground, Orion only twisted a little more, making him submit. "Don't touch him! Get away from him! I'll kill you if you hurt him! I'll kill you!"

            Orion let him struggle till he was exhausted, arm still trapped in Orion’s grasp. Drift looked down at the ground. Entire frame shaking, he bit his bottom lip.

            "Tsk..."

            "Drift." First Aid said, motioning for Orion to release him. Kneeling by him, he put a hand under his chin, pushing his face up till he was looking at him. Coolant tears streamed down his face, bright blue optics quivering as he struggled not to sob. "It's over...it's over. You don't have to fight anymore. No more fighting. Everything will be alright now. You're safe. I promise. Nothing will hurt you anymore." Drift leaned back, breaking down. Choking on his sobs, he felt First Aid pull him into a hug, squeezing him tightly and trying his best to comfort him.

            Orion walked past them, heading for Tarn, who he cuffed to himself and called his other troops in to sweep the area for any remaining grunts or suspects. Several pleasure bots and leakers were arrested, and Drift should have been among them, But First Aid vouched for him, plus Orion had already made a deal with Ratchet for future plans with Drift.

 

* * *

 

 

Ratchet groaned, everything hurt more than usual, and he found it odd that he couldn't online his optics right away.

            "Ugh..." Dimming to life, Ratchet blinked a few times before staring at the ceiling, not his own apartment ceiling, but the clinics. Taking a moment, he shifted, regretting it when pain shot through him. Bringing a hand up, he felt some tension on it, seeing a tube stretching from his arm all the way over to Drift’s own arm.

            "Hey..." Drift gave a soft smile, he had an eye patch over his left optic, no doubt First Aid had repaired it and placed it there to heal. He had several bandages around his frame and arms.

            "Hey..." Ratchet said through static. "You look like slag." He smiled when Drift rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm.

            "You don't look any better." He looked at the tube, swallowing hard a moment. "First Aid said you needed energon. So... I uh...Volunteered. After he purged my system that is." He shivered.

            "You volunteered for this...?" Ratchet noticed that Drift was sitting in a chair rather than laying in his berth.

            "Yeah...almost threw up when he did it but....uh...." He blushed, "You did it for me so...just returning the favor."

            "Ah! You're awake!" First Aid rushed around them. "Do you have any idea how horrible of a patient Drift is? Do you?" First Aid huffed as he checked over Ratchet, replacing mesh patches on his dented armor. "I have insisted several time he lay down and rest. But  _no,_ he has to disobey and get out of berth." He pointed an accusing servo at the white mech. "You will faint if you stay like that. I'm not kidding Drift. You are just as wounded at Ratchet. You both need rest. And I am not afraid of tying you down."

            Drift stuck his glossa out at him, and Ratchet laughed.

            "Don't be too hard on him First Aid, he did just take down one of the biggest drug and slave dealers in The Dead End."

            "My wrath is worse if the two of you don't rest." He warned, finishing up Ratchet and moving to Drift who flinched away but allowed First Aid to examine him.

            First Aid waited for Drift to relax before pulling the patch off of his optic, flashing a light into it, satisfied when it spun and shrank.

            "Healing well." Flicking the light off, he palpated Drift’s neck cables then changed the bandages on his chest plate and arms. "Did Ratchet tell you?"

            "Tell me what?"

            "He found your T-cog. Perfect condition. Seems they didn't sell it right away. Good for you, since now we can put it back into you and have you back on your wheels in no time." Pulling away, he expected to see an excited expression, but Drift just gritted his denta. "Don't worry. Ratchet will be performing the surgery. You couldn't hope for a better medic to do the job." Taking Drift’s arm, he slid out the needle and shunt and did the same for Ratchet. Placing a small patch over the holes, he tossed the tube out. "Now you two just rest. That means you get in your own berth Drift." Pointing to the berth next to Ratchet’s, Drift groaned before slowly laying down on it. "Good."

Ratchet waited a few moments after First Aid left them to look at Drift, he was pouting, arms crossed over his chest.

            "Psst." Ratchet slid his arm out from under the covers, motioning for Drift to come over. "Come here." Drift’s optics brightened as he nearly jumped up, sneaking over to Ratchet and sliding under the covers with him.

            Slowly, Ratchet positioned himself onto his side, a few hisses of pain escaping him before he settled. Draping an arm over Drift, he didn't hesitate to pull him close. Instantly he felt Drift's warm frame against his own, and for a long time he savored it.

            "You did good kid." Ratchet whispered, gently stroking Drift's spine. "I told you, you were special." He smiled as he looked down, Drift had his face place pressed against Ratchet’s dented chest. Optics dim, a dopey smile on his bruised face.  Snuggling into him further, he could feel Drift’s frame vibrating slightly, almost purring. Hugging him the best he could, he placed soft kisses on Drift’s finials, earning soft grunts of approval.

            "I'm glad you're alive." Drift said after a long silence, just enjoying the tight embrace. This was probably the first time he had ever really felt something like this. Something so calm and peaceful.

            "I have had worse." Ratchet grunted, hunkering down till he was nearly face to face with his patient. Chin just above Drift’s nose, he kissed Drift’s forehead before pulling the covers up more. "Rest now. You deserve it." He cooed, still massaging Drift’s back, taking care to ease the tensed cables until Drift slipped into recharge.

            For a long time Ratchet watched him sleep, frame rising and falling as his intakes blew hot air onto his own frame. In the next few days, Ratchet would perform his surgery, and then break the news to him, and it worried him.


	13. Whole

First Aid struggled to keep Ratchet in bed for days, finally giving up and letting the chief up by the end of the week.

            When Ratchet didn't work, his hands itched, and when his hands itched, he became ten times more of a grump than he normally was.

            "I thought Drift was a horrible patient," First Aid sidestepped as Ratchet moved by him, "But you...are by far the worse. Three times I caught you out of berth, two doing walk-ins, and the last time doing lab work. What is with you, why can't you just take a free vacation when you can?"

            "I have rested enough, I feel fine." Sitting at his desk, he picked up a data pad and scrolled through the messages. Several emails he ignored, and one he stared at for a while before First Aid scoffed.

            "Well if you won't stay in the berth, then I will have to do Drift’s T-Cog surgery when it comes. You may feel better but you still look like hell. I can do it, it's one of the easiest surgeries to perform, you don't even have to observe. You can just go home, grab a cold cube, and sit back and do whatever it is you do when you are not here."

            "He won't let you do it."

            "You mean the surgery?" First Aid rolled his optics only once before yanking over a chair and sitting on the opposite side of Ratchet’s desk, staring him down. "Why not?"

            "Drift may be better than what we had first seen when he arrived here for the first time, but he is still wary about everything. You didn't see what I saw in that warehouse, what they were going to do to him. I can only imagine how often they raped and tortured him before we found him." Reaching for a half full energon cube, he sipped it gingerly, wincing as it washed down.  "I am the only one who can and will do the surgery. Not unless you want to get an army in here to hold him down to do it yourself."

            "It's just a T-cog."

            "To us, yes. But to Drift, it's a grim reminder of the past. Laying him down on the table could trigger past memories he buried. He could go into a rage, deep depression, or he could hold out and be fine, but we don't know. So it is best for us to approach it in a way that Drift will feel most comfortable. He trusts me, so I am going to do it." Taking another sip of the cube, Ratchet set the data pad down and sighed. "Besides if you tried he would probably crack your optic in one punch. He is stronger than you think."

            "I know, I saw the Red Rampage." He leaned back, crossing his arms before sighing. "Fine, you can do the surgery, but I will be there with you. In case anything happens."

            "Nothing is going to happen. He will be fine as long as we take it slow. Let him rest, give him the high grade energon, and give him some time."

            "When do you plan on doing the surgery? Drift is healing a much faster rate than I thought. We could do it soon."

            "Like you, his body can regenerate much faster than my old one. He will be in fit shape to walk around tomorrow, and that is when I will do the surgery. I will talk with him in a bit, he is still recharging, don't want to wake him up."

            "I'll get the room ready for tomorrow then, and the T-cog. It has minor damage, easily repaired though. It was kept in good condition."

            "It wouldn't make a good profit if it was broken. Just focus on the task." Standing, Ratchet moved past First Aid and into the ward, walking by several empty berths before getting to Drift’s. To his surprise, he was awake.

            "Hey..." Drift said, vocalizer hazy, he must have just woken up.

            "How are you feeling?" Ratchet pulled a chair up and sat by him. "Anything hurt?"

            "Uh...I don't think so. A little sore...but okay none the less."

            "Good." Leaning back, the medic glanced at his spark monitor briefly before looking back. "We are going to do your T-Cog surgery tomorrow, in the afternoon." Drift looked away from him, optics quivering before focusing on something that wasn't Ratchet.

            "Y-yeah." Swallowing hard, he felt Ratchet take one of his hands and squeeze it.

            "It is a very simple operation. I have done more than my fair share in my life time. It won't take more than an hour and you will be back to normal in no time. You don't have to worry about anything anymore, you are safe here, and I will keep you safe. You will be put under, and I will work for a bit, and you will wake up right here. Good as new."

            "Mhm..." He could see Drift struggling with himself, waning to believe him and wanting to panic, but he remained still. "Tomorrow you said?"

            "Yes. You are not planning on running are you?" Drift shifted in the berth, anxious. No doubt he was thinking about it, but the desire to be able to transform again kept him in place.

            "No...no, I'll stay. Just....glad you told me now...rather than tomorrow. Gives me time to...settle with it." He felt Ratchet squeeze his hand again before putting his other on his shoulder.

            "Good. The smoother this runs, the better it will be for you. I know you are scared Drift, and I don't blame you for it. I just want you to trust me."

            "I do." His head tilted, and he gave a quick smile before settling back into the berth, the look of impending doom returning to his face.

            "Just relax today. I'll have First Aid check on you now and again. Make sure you drink the high grade, but no more after nightfall. It will make you sick after surgery."

            "Okay..." With a final nod, Ratchet was up, pulling the berth covers a little further up on Drift before heading out of view, leaving Drift with his thoughts.

            Shifting on the berth, Drift laid on his side, burying part of his face into the pillow and shivering. Every joint screaming for him to get up and leave, but he forced himself to stay. He had nowhere to go once he left the clinic, maybe back to empty warehouses, no doubt cleaned out by now, and back to what he was doing before Ratchet found him.

            "I don't want that..." He whispered before offlining his optics and forcing himself into recharge.

 

* * *

 

 

"Surgery bay two is ready when you are Ratchet." First Aid walked in on Ratchet helping Drift from his berth. Having to haul him up by his arms, Drift put his feet down and stood with a slight hunch. Still sore and dented from the battle, he was slow to follow Ratchet around the berth. A hand pressed firmly to his side, he looked like he was on death row.

            "Don't look so down," Ratchet waited by the door for him to shuffle over, "everything is going to be fine."           

            "I hope so." Drift whispered, following Ratchet down the hall and around a corner into a long corridor. Every step became more and more difficult as he approached the open surgery bay doors, having to force each step, he finally had to stop a few feet from the room. Ratchet stopped as well, waiting patiently.

            Drift looked up at Ratchet, a pleading look on his face, but Ratchet only put a hand on his shoulder.

            "Come on." A light push and Drift was moving again, rounding the corner and stepping into the surgery bay and stopping again when he saw the surgical berth. Ratchet bumped into him from behind, forcing him to take one more step closer, he back peddled a bit, not realizing Ratchet had closed the doors to the room, his back hit them.

            Ratchet watched, holding up a hand to First Aid who was going to try and touch him, but stopped.

            "Take your time Drift." Ratchet's voice seemed to break him from the trance he was in, and he swallowed hard and moved forwards again. "Lay on your back on the berth, we will take care of the rest. Take it slow and steady."

            "O-Okay..." Was all he could push out of his knotted throat, spark pounding in his chest, he began to move again. Peds heavy and dragging the floor a bit, he stood by the edge of the table, optics looking it over as if it were going to tear him apart the second he touched it.

            Heaving himself up, he laid back, doing his best to relax his nearly stiff frame. His hands clenched and unclenched slowly, expecting to be tied down, but no restraints came, and it eased his mind a bit until First Aid was by his side.

            "Just going to put some nodes on you, keep an eye on your spark while we work." Hands almost as gentle as Ratchet’s, First Aid placed the little circles all over Drift’s chest plate. Each little node made him tense until First Aid had finished and flicked on the machine. A steady beat followed, and for a while Drift watched the line bounce on screen. He was memorized for a moment before something damp brushed his arm and he jerked back suddenly, arm yanked away and held by his other, he stared down First Aid.

            "What are you doing?" Optics locked onto the needle in hand.

            "It's just an IV." Trying to reach for Drift’s arm again, he pulled away further, making First Aid let out a groan of frustration. "It's to keep you hydrated through the surgery, nothing else." Still he couldn't get him, not without force, but Ratchet was very clear about not doing that.

            "Drift." Ratchet said after a while of watching the two play tug of war with his arm. Drift looked up at him, then rested back down, arm still firmly held away from First Aid.

            "But..." He stopped himself, knowing nothing would change the situation. A moment passed, and he surrendered, holding out his arm.

            "That's it, good." Re-swabbing his arm, he was very gentle when he stuck him, sliding in the needle and placing tape over the end, he was done with nothing more than a mere whimper. "See, not so bad when you just do what we say." Drift shot him a bitter look, but First Aid ignored him and moved away. A bright light was suddenly moved over Drift, and he was blinded a moment.

            The panic was building again, and he could hear the spark monitor suddenly jump in pace and continue as First Aid worked around him.

            "I don't think I can do this." His frame was trembling now. "I can't do this..." Propping himself on his elbows, he reached to pull out the IV but Ratchet’s hand stopped him. Not pulling him away, Ratchet just held his hand there.

            "It's alright Drift, you're doing fine. You're doing really well." He guided Drift back down, and he didn't resist. "You're fine."

            "I....I'm scared." Drift whispered, optics locked on the ceiling before Ratchet stood by his side, a gentle hand stroking his cheek.

            "I know you are. But I'm here now, you don't have to be worried anymore. Just a bit more and you don't have to be afraid anymore." His words eased him and his frame slouched slightly. "I'm going to give you an anesthetic, you will feel tired at first, then slowly you will slip into an offline mode. That is when we will start working, you will wake up here in the clinic in the recovery bay. T-Cog in tact once again." He explained, holding out his hand to First Aid to give him the syringe.

            "O-Okay..." He watched Ratchet grab the IV tube and stick it, injecting the liquid right into it. The spark monitor jumped again as he watched the liquid stream down and vanish into his arm.

            "Deep breaths Drift." Ratchet’s voice seemed to drop into a low base, and the room became fuzzy.

            "I..." Drift's optics dimmed, a groggy look on his face as he shifted uneasily. "...heavy..." Trying to lift his arms, they felt welded to the table, and as time passed, the corners of his vision faded till his optics were just barely online.

            "First Aid, get ready, he's almost there." He heard Ratchet say, and then the sound of tools shuffling around.  The last thing he saw was Ratchet leaning over him, he was talking, but he couldn't hear him, and then his frame offlined.

            "He's out." Ratchet flashed a light in Drift’s dark optics while First Aid disinfected Drift lower abdomen.

            "Prepared and ready." He said, handing Ratchet his torch. The flame shot out and focused to a blue point.

            "Let's get this kid back together then." Leaning down, he placed the torch close to Drift’s stomach, and then let the flame melt through his outer armor. It only took Ratchet a few seconds to make a perfect incision. "T-Cog." He held his hand out, and First Aid was quick to hand over the large sphere. First Aid inserted clamps into the laceration, spreading the metal plates enough so Ratchet could slide the T-Cog in and set it in its place.

            Ratchet worked delicately, reconnecting every wire as perfectly as he could until the T-cog flashed blue, lighting up as it reactivated.

            "Look at that." He said, slowly pulling his hands from Drift’s torso, "Works perfectly." Finishing off a few more repairs, Ratchet closed Drift up, welding the laceration and leaving First Aid to clean up and place the mesh patch over him.

            "When he wakes in the recovery bay...are you going to tell him?" First Aid looked up from where his hands were wiping away energon spilled. He wasn't surprised when Ratchet only glanced over his shoulder, then left.


	14. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter but it ended up a lot longer than I had first thought! The good news is that the final chapter is next! The bad news, the Final chapter is next.

Slowly, Drift’s optics blinked online, taking a few moments to clear the haze, they dimmed. He saw the ceiling first, the lights dimmed out a bit so he and the other patients wouldn't be disturbed in their recharge.

            He groaned, shifting slightly and regretting it as a sharp pain jolted his side, and his memory of what happened slowly came back to him. With a heavy hand, he slid it down his chest till his finger tips touched the mesh patch. A few more inches and he could feel the light bump of the weld under it.

            "Finally...." Relaxing his frame, he smiled, a dark veil seeming to be lifted right off of him. Ratchet had done as he had promised, and nothing more, and he was thrilled.

            Tilting his head slightly, he had expected to wake up with ratchet by his side, but both sides of the berth had been empty. Maybe Ratchet had other patients to tend too and he wanted Drift to get rest, or maybe he was just cleaning up. Only when Drift’s audio picked up soft chatter from the next room over did he realize it was First Aid and Ratchet talking. Both of their voices low, but hard. Were they fighting?

            Drift's finial perked and he tried to listen, still feeling a little queasy, he didn't shift too much in his berth for a better position.

 

* * *

 

 

"You cannot keep putting it off!" First Aid snapped, frustrated that Ratchet was not looking at him.  "Ratchet!"

            "I can hear you just fine." His optics looked up from his data consol, and he sighed. "I know. I just don't think he is ready to hear it. It is so soon."      

            "Ratchet..." First Aid sighed, sitting down and leaning against the desk, "I know you like him, and I know you enjoy his company...but he was never going to stay here forever in the first place. He's just another patient. Just another one of the addicts we picked up off the side of the street and put back together. Only this time it nearly got you killed. If Orion had not shown up, what do you think might have happened? Drift would have burnt out and Tarn would have destroyed you both."

            "You don't know that." Picking up an energon cube, he gingerly shipped it, looking away from First Aid. "Drift is a lot stronger of a bot than you think. I just don't think now is the best time..."

            "But you're the one who called Orion. You are the one who asked for this." His fist hit the desk and all the pads and pens rattled.

            "I know I did!" Ratchet snapped. "But Drift is in no condition to be handed over right now. He is still too weak."

            "Then when? When are you? When Orion comes here and you don't give Drift over, what are you going to do? Tell him, sorry I can't do it, not today. He's not ready."

            "Listen, I am going to give him to Orion, just when he is in better condition to be traded."

 

* * *

 

 

A knot had formed in Drift’s throat and he could almost feel his spark tearing through his chest housing.

            "Traded...." He whispered, his bottom lip quivering slightly as he swallowed hard. Staring at the ceiling, Tarn’s words flowed through his head. Maybe he was just a pleasure bot. Just something to be traded around when others got sick of him. It had happened before, and Tarn made sure all his stock knew only he would care about them. Only Tarn would keep them and never give them away.

            Was he right, all this time? Was Ratchet just going to patch him up and ship him off to someone else?

            Hot coolant burned his optics, and he jolted up, stifling a loud hiss as his side burned. Wrenching the IV out of his arm, he slid from the bed. One hand on his mesh patch, he slowly moved around and two the main door. Back to Ratchet and First Aid who were still bickering with one another in their office.

            If Ratchet wouldn't keep him, then he was better off on his own again. At least this time Tarn wouldn't be after him.

 

* * *

 

 

            "First Aid listen. I just want Drift to have a chance. To live a normal life, or at least make up for some of it. He has been through the ringer already. Do you have any idea how alone he must feel?"

            "I can imagine. He didn't have the best acquaintances." The young medic leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over one another.

            "He is a good kid. He can fight well. Orion will teach him well, and with time he will work up the ranks and he may be something great. He will be better than what he once was and I want that to ease his mind."

            "What if he doesn't live up to what you think he will be? What if he is just like all of the other addicts? All of those other ones you gave the same speech too? The ones you said were also special, who had big things in their futures? How many of them have we found dead on the side of the road from an OD?" He watched Ratchet frown, recalling all of his previous attempts to save burnt out sparks.

            "Drift is different, and that is the best I can say. Time will tell. Either he makes it with Orion, or he falls back out, and I have faith he won't."

            "I don't know how you do it Ratchet, I really don't. Any other medic would have patched him up and kicked him out."

            "When have I ever been any other medic?" He smirked and took one last sip of his cube before standing. "Come on, we need to check Drift’s weld, make sure it set well." Pushing back in his chair, he stood walked out of his office, First Aid close behind.      

            Walking down the long line of medical berths, Ratchet pulled back the curtain to Drift’s berth.

            "How are you-" He looked at the empty berth a moment before looked at First Aid who looked at him and shrugged.

            "You know I take it back, Drift is the worse patient ever." Picking up the IV line, he coiled it and set it aside, sighting when he saw the frustration on Ratchet’s face. "Just let him go."

            "No..." Stomping one ped, he put a hand to his chin and thought. "Why...."

            "Why what?"

            "Why would he leave? Why run again?"

            "He has his T-Cog back, any other reason he would stay here?"

            "Because he has nowhere else to go." Turning quickly, he gathered up a few supplies and stuffed them into his subspace. This sure brought him back to the first time Drift ran.

            "Should I take over for the day?" First Aid's tone as rather dry, already knowing the answer.

            "For now, yes, I'll message you later with details."

 

* * *

 

 

Drift kicked aside stones as he walked, running a hand under his nose and he tried to keep himself together.

            "I can't believe this..." As he moved through the Warehouse District, he wasn't surprised to find it bare. No bots or addicts around, all cleaned out by Orion and his troops, and now he was next on the list.

            Thunder crackled overhead, and in seconds it began to pour on him. Cursing, he made his way into the main warehouse, walking through till he was in the center and sighing.

            Droplets of water dripped off of his finials as he stood there a while, just staring at his now soggy mesh patch.

            "I won't go. I won't be just something to be traded." An angry bubbled in his chest and he smashed crates all around him until none remained intact. Panting, he fell to one knee, coolant streaming down the side of his face. Faceplate slightly red, he felt nauseous suddenly, having been so nervous the night before the surgery, he chugged several more cubes than he should have. Even after Ratchet’s warning, he couldn't help himself. He used to do the same with boosters, when Tarn had special things planned for him on the night. Using boosters to take the edge off whatever he had done to him.

            "You always going to run here?" Ratchet’s voice startled him and he fell back on his aft, wincing.

            "Maybe you should stop following me." He stood slowly, not taking his optics off of Ratchet.

            "Why did you run?" Ratchet had his arms crossed now, a rather un-amused look on his face when Drift didn't answer right away. Instead he watched him look down, thinking up the right answer. "Well?"

            "Tsk." Coolant tears poured from Drift’s optics, he slammed one foot down. "Because you were going to give me away!" He screamed. "I heard you! I heard you and First Aid talking about it! Trading me! I'm so tired of it! I'm so sick of it! I'm so sick of this!" He sobbed, choking on his words now. "So jus get away from me! I'm not going back with you! I'm not just some pleasure bot! Tarn was right..." Rubbing his optics, he shivered, "you never cared about me."

            "Drift." Ratchet tried to move closer but Drift only pushed back, keeping a large distance.

            "Keep away from me!" Yanking one sword out, he pointed it at Ratchet, the look on his face torn. "I don't want anything to do with you anymore! I should have ended myself the day we first met." Hyperventilating, he staggered back when Ratchet became a white blur. "Wha-"

            Ratchet had lunged from side to side, knocking the blade from Drift’s hands and grabbing both of them in his hands. Kicking out Drift's legs, he slammed him down on his back, hands pinned by the sides of his head.

            "Enough of this." Ratchet was atop of him, his face only a foot away from Drift’s. "I don't want to trade you Drift." He said over Drift’s soft hiccups.

            "Liar! I heard you!" He jerked up, chest hitting Ratchet’s own chest. "You're just like the rest!" He was suddenly jerked hard and saw Ratchet’s optics light up.

            "You think I want to frag you until you beg for me to stop because it hurts too much!? Spike you until you think you are being torn in two? Do you think I want others doing that to you? Hurting you every night? Do you think I want them to beat you every night? Make you want to die? Do you really think I want any of those things?" He was shouting now, and Drift was frozen in fear, only able to stair wide opticed up at him. "Do you?" He growled.

            "No...." Drift turned his head away from him, tears falling down his face. "Then why are you trading me?" Bottom lip quivering, he felt Ratchet’s grip on his wrist loosen.

            "Orion arrested Tarn, and all of the bots he was associated with, and you would have been too, if I had not begged for him not to. I made him an offer." He leaned back a bit, making sure to keep away from Drift’s raw weld. "That if you would go with him and train to be an Autobot, he would drop all charges of booster use, and criminal charges. Your Decepticon records. I agreed to it, because it was a way for you to get out of the Dead End, meet new bots. Live a life worth living. Not in the shadows anymore. I wanted to give you a chance." He watched Drift’s face twist before bursting out sobbing.

            Getting off of him, he pulled Drift up and embraced him tightly, hugging him until his sobs faded to soft hiccups.

            "I would never trade you back into the nightmare." He cooed, rubbing Drift’s back gently. "I didn't want to tell you right away because you have already so much to deal with. I wanted you to have a clear mind through the surgery. I just didn't want you to worry."

            Drift said nothing, just sniffling and burying his face into Ratchet’s shoulder. Stomach rolling, he shivered and squeezed Ratchet tighter, just relieved that he was still one of the good guys.

            "Sorry I left." He finally said after a while, having just sat with ratchet and listened to the rain pound the warehouse roof. "I'm sorry. I drank a lot after nightfall" His face plate was a mix of bright pink and a steady green.

            "It's alright kid. When we get back I'll wash you up and get you something to settle your tanks. "

 

* * *

 

 

First Aid let out a low groan as both Drift and Ratchet walked through the clinic doors, soaking wet and drenching the floor.

            "Welcome back." He pouted, clearly having had an already busy day. "Orion left you a message on your terminal. When you have a chance."

            Ratchet nodded and guided Drift to the washrooms.

            "Wait here, I'll be back to help clean you up. A warm wash should make you feel better." When Drift nodded and sat on a bench, he was quick to his terminal to open the message.

Optics scanning it, his shoulders slumped at the last line.

_I will be arriving for Drift tomorrow._


	15. Proud

Ratchet’s fist slammed on the table, his spark sinking. He had hoped Orion would at least give him a week to prep Drift, he wasn't expecting him to arrive so soon. Drift still needed time to heal, but for all he knew Orion was just bringing him to one of the recruit apartments, a temporary housing for the trainees to rest in after training. Hopefully they would go easy on him his first few weeks.

            Getting up after a long moment, he made his way back to the washrooms, finding Drift right where he had left him.

            "Come on kid, let's get you cleaned up." Helping him stand, he brought him over to the shower stall. Rather wide, it had a bench across it, and he made Drift sit on it before turning the water on. Pipes rattled in the walls before Drift was doused with warm water, and he shivered, his plating rising a bit at the warm feeling. Tilting his head up, he let the water plashed his faceplate before he felt Ratchet move in front of him.

            "Hm?" His optics brightened when Ratchet kneeled, moving Drift’s arms away from his stomach.

            "Let me see your patch." He let Drift lift his arms the rest of the way before he gently pulled the mesh off. A large weld sound was revealed and Drift had to look away a moment, struggling to settle his tanks. "It's a little irritated." He said over the sound of the water hitting his back. Massaging around the weld, he watched Drift for any sign of pain, but only soft whimpers came. "A fresh patch and an antibiotic should clear it." Moving away, the water returned to hitting Drift and he tilted his head a bit, letting it hit his neck.

            Only when Ratchet returned did he lean back again, expecting him to place a new patch on him.

            "Just relax, I'm going to clean you up a bit." A light blue cloth in hand, he soaked it and lightly washed around Drift’s weld. Scrubbing off dried energon and some dust, he moved around him, getting between hard to reach seams and crevasse.

            Drift's faceplate lit bright pink, and he ducked his head a bit, hoping Ratchet wouldn't notice. It felt wonderful, having his seams worked, a pleasure he never really had much of, and Ratchet was doing an amazing job unclogging him of grime.

            "Feeling a little better?" He heard Ratchet say over his shoulder.

            "Yeah....much better." Poking both his fingers together, he shivered when Ratchet slid the cloth down his spinal struts. Face bright red now, he bit his bottom lip.

            "You okay?"

            "Y-yep...." Covering his face, he let him continue until the cloth was tossed down. Sitting down hard against Drift, Ratchet slung an arm over him and pulled him in until Drift’s head was on his shoulder. Glancing up at him, Drift tilted his head, confused.

            "Orion is coming to pick you up tomorrow morning. From then on..." He paused, spark sinking, "I may not see you for a long time. It will be tough, but I think you will be just fine."

            "Tomorrow..." His bright pink face dulled gray and he frowned.

            "Mhm. But don't worry, the next time I see you, you had better be the bot I know you are." Sliding a hand under Drift’s chin, he gently eased him up until their optics locked. "Show them all that you are better than The Dead End." Brushing his cheek with his thumb, he watched him nod. "Good."

            "How long do you think it will be before I can see you again?"

            "I'm not sure kid. Things have changed. It could be weeks, maybe years. I don't know. It is all up to how fast you learn. But don't worry, I'm old but I don't plan to roll over and die any time soon, so I will be here when you get back."

            "Promise?" Arms wrapped around Ratchet, and he hugged him so tight that he could feel inner springs creaking under the pressure.

            "I promise kid. I'll be here."

 

* * *

 

 

Orion towered over Drift, forcing him to take a step back a bit just to be able to see over his large chestplate.

            "Hello again." Orion held out his hand to Drift. "I am glad we are finally able to meet under better circumstances.”

            The whole night before Drift lay face up in berth, panicked that Orion would hate him and toss him away. Getting no recharge, it showed now, but a wave of relief smashed into him when Orion was nothing but kind. The big smile on the trucks face and his gentle gestures perked him up in fact.

            "Nice to meet you..." Clasping hands with him, they shook three times before standing back.

            "Ratchet has had nothing but good things to say. I am egger to see what you are made of. I did see you on the field though not in the way I had wish to test your skills, but you are a fine swords-mech. I believe you will strive in that area quickly. I know this is sudden with your surgery, but I think it is best to get you accustom to the others as quickly as possible."

            "Others?" Drift glanced to his side where Ratchet was standing next to him.

            "You and several other trainees. Young kids, like yourself. You won't be alone. Orion is big on teamwork." Ratchet said, stepping forwards to shake Orion's hand.

            "That is correct. Plus I think the socialization will help break you of old habits. As you train you will also do odd jobs, earning credits as well, so you will be able to afford things on your own time, and with time, you can work up the ranks to be something really great."

            "You would do all that for me?"

            "Only if you are up for it. It is not an easy path. But it does have its rewards."

            Looking at Ratchet, he saw him nod, then smile. Drift knew Ratchet wanted him as far away from this hell hole as he could get him, but at the same time he didn't want to leave. Some part of him felt like he would never see him again, but if he said no, he would be a fugitive.

            "I accept your offer, thank you." He bowed slightly, a hand on his mesh patch.

            "Excellent. Then we should be off. Ratchet has informed me you are not allowed to transform for a week while you heal. So we will be taking my small ship to Iacon. There, my team will get you fitted and ready. Once your week is up, it's nothing but training." Orion placed a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder, saying his goodbyes before turning and heading for his ship.

            Drift remained, hesitant at first, looking from Ratchet to Orion back to Ratchet. Spark feeling like it was being torn in two, he hugged Ratchet quickly then took off after Orion.

            "I'll be back!" He shouted, waving to Ratchet as he hopped up onto the loading ramp. As it closed, he turned and watched Ratchet wave to him, First Aid now by his side. Both waving until the ramp had closed, they watched the ship vanish into the sky.

            "Maybe now things will return to normal." First Aid said after he set his arms down. "No way we are taking in any more addicts. No way. I'll quit." He glanced at Ratchet, seeing a small grin on his face.

            "You say that now, but when you get to be my age, you will understand."

            "I doubt it...but do you really think you will see him again? If he doesn't get himself killed on the field, or crushed by the Wreckers."

            "I'm sure we will see him again. Until then, we just keep doing what we always have been." Turning, Ratchet walked back into the clinic.

 

* * *

 

  **SIX YEARS LATER**

 

* * *

 

Dust kicked up as a hot rod zipped down the streets, zooming around cars and flooring it in the straightaway. Skidding and sliding sideways, the mech came to a hard stop. As the dust settled, he transformed and stood up, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck.

            Looking around, he shifted, leaning his weight to one side before he locked optics with the Clinic. Still as run down as it was six years ago, it looked the same. A smile crept on his face as he walked for the main doors.

            "Hello?" He said as he stepped onto the hard tile floor. "Uh, sorry to drop in unannounced...but does a Medic by the name of Ratchet still work here?"

            "Yes, that would be m-" Ratchet rounded the corner, stopping dead in his tracks. "...Drift."

            "Don't look so surprised." Drift smiled, his whole frame seeming to glow.

            Drift was larger, at some point he must have had his entire body reworked. Standing slightly taller than Ratchet, is pristine armor shimmered in the low light. A new paint job, milk white paint highlighted with red. He looked stunning. His age showed in his face, a much more hardened jaw line, and his finials slightly longer now. His chest met his hips in the most intoxicating hourglass shape Ratchet had ever seen, and with two swords strapped to his hips as well. You would have never been able to tell what Drift had been subject to from all his upgrades.

            "You look....great!" Clasping his hands down on Drift’s shoulders, he smiled. "I knew you would make it kid. I knew it!" Drift smiled, perfect denta showing through.

            "It was tough, but I met Rodimus. He and I just clicked. He's been my best friend since the start. He really helped me out at times. Worked up the ranks, and got myself third in Command. I finally had the freedom to come down here and see you since..." He trailed off, "Since I left.”

            "Well, like I said, I would be here when you get back, didn't I?" He gestured for Drift to follow him into the clinic so more but he didn't budge. Ratchet looked at him, confused. He wasn't really still afraid of this type of thing was he?

            "I came here to ask you a favor actually."

            "A favor?" Ratchet moved close to him, "You're not hurt are you?" Optics scanning him, Drift held up his hands and laughed.

            "No no, nothing like that, but it is a bit of a personal matter. I would really like to discuss it in...private." Leaning to the side, Drift eyed First Aid who was barking at an Unruly patient. Not so long ago it had been him he was shouting at.

            "Just give me a moment to clean up, we can head to my apartment to talk if you like."

            "That's fine." Drift watched Ratchet run around a bit and speak with First Aid before returning to him. Once settled, they both went outside. It was Drift who transformed first, and Ratchet was impressed by his alt mode. A beautiful car, low to the ground, slender, no doubt fast. It was no wonder Drift was desirable in the Dead End, he was visually pleasing.

            Ratchet shifted into his own alt mode and drove off, Drift following close behind.

 

* * *

 

 

            "Do you ever move furniture around, because this looks the same as it did six years ago?" Drift walked into the center of the apartment, hands on his hips, aft tilting to one side and Ratchet had to rip his eyes off him to close the door.

            "I rarely come here. The clinic keeps me busy, you should know this." Walking around him, he got two cubes for energon for them. Offering one to Drift, who took it humbly.

            "So what is it you wanted to talk about?" Sitting down on his sofa, he sipped his cube.

            "First of all," Drift only took once sip of his cube before setting it down on the end table, "I wanted to thank you for everything you had done for me. I know back then times were hard but I want to thank you now for it. I really appreciate what you did." He bowed right in half, optics dimmed.

            "It's my job, you don't have to thank me." He smiled, chugging the last bit in his cube. "What did you really want to talk about?" His words made Drift’s frame tighten.

            "I...I saved up enough credits to redo my frame. As you can see. But I also...." He stood back up, faceplate a light pink. "I uh...I had my entire interfacing systems replaced. It has taken me up till now to save up to do it. But it’s brand new. Factory seals still in place."

            "Are you asking me for interfacing advice? With what partner? Rodimus? I have heard rumors about that one. He will be good for you. He is young, like you kid."

            "No, Rodimus is not who I wanted to break my seals. I uh....I never even told him I had it replaced. I want you to." He wasn't surprised when Ratchet jerked forwards.

            "Drift," He shook his head, setting his empty cube down, "you don't want someone like me doing something like that for you. You have a fresh start, make it with someone you really care about. Someone like Rodimus. You two are about the same age, have him break the seal."

            "I am choosing someone important to me. I have thought about it, for a long time. Right at the moment I left here in the first place. I wanted too. Not because my pleasure bot coding said so, but because _I_  said so. It was the first time I felt something real. Felt like I could love and be loved without having to be forced down into it. For once I could interface and not feel guilty about it later. To interface without being named a price. I just want to have something real, because that chance was torn from me." There was a long silence between them, and his shoulders sagged. "You don't have too. I will understand if you say no."

            "It's not that I don't want to kid." Ratchet was standing now. "It's just...are you sure....it's me you really want? Some old medic from The Dead End?"

            "Yeah." Shrugging, Drift smiled, and then he had to take a step back when Ratchet’s lips crashed against his. Pushing into it, Drift kissed back, groaning softly as Ratchet grabbed the sides of his face. "I want this...." Fans roared, and Drift’s frame slightly heated when he felt Ratchet pull him towards his berth.

            "Then we take it slow. A seal break it’s still painful." Pushing Drift down on his back on the Berth, he climbed atop of him, kissing his neck and nibbling cables.

            Drift shuttered, optics dimming as he felt Ratchet’s hands moving all around his body, jamming between seams and pulling sensitive wires.

            "I'm ready for it." Whispered Drift, turning his head to the side to Ratchet could get better access at his neck. "Primus..." His whole body seemed sensitive, and Ratchet wondered if he had gone all this time without the slightest contact from anyone.

            "Shh..." Ratchet cooed, working his way down Drift’s frame. Leaning to one side, Ratchet gently spread Drift’s legs, exposing his red hot interfacing panel. Around the seams, he could see lubricants seeping out. No doubt around that Drift wasn't eager for him. "Remember, slow." Massaging the panel, it wasn't long before it snapped back, reveling a shimmering new valve. Unscathed, it was visibly smaller, the clear signs of a virgin aft piece. If he didn't take this slow he would really hurt him, not to mention bring back memories that would crush him.

            Leaning down, he slid his glossa around the valve rim, then over the bright pink outer node, enjoying the jerk Drift’s legs gave.

            "Ah! Ah!" Drift propped up on his elbows, face drunk with bliss. "Primus it's so...it's so sensitive...." Throwing himself back when Ratchet licked again, he covered his face, wailing into his hands.

            Aft jerking back slightly to lessen the simulation, Ratchet gripped his thighs, pulling him back into his glossa. Using his thumb to massage the outer node, he stuck his glossa into the valve, testing its flexibility. Not much, and Drift squealed, peds curling. It would be unbearable pain to even attempt to put his spike into his valve. He would have to make him overload with some teasing first to loosen him first. Which didn't both him, in fact it revved his engines.

            Glancing up at Drift, he noted how hard he was panting. Frame trembling with lust and desire. His spike had slowly crept out of its housing, standing tall and pressurized.

            Rubbing the outer node a little more, Ratchet teased the tip of his finger in the lips of Drift’s valve. Rubbing between them thoroughly, coating them in the generous amounts of lubricant he was producing. Pressing against the opening, he felt Drift squirm under him before sliding up till the first knuckle in. It was tight, even for one finger, but he was quick to massage the inner walls, easing the mesh before daring to slide further. All the while, Ratchet kept close watch on Drift's expression, so far so good. A steady stream of moans and grunts before Ratchet built up a slow thrust.

            Hand soaked by the same Drift’s valve relaxed, he teased a second finger in, getting a loud hiss this time. Legs twitching, he was careful. Sliding slowly in and out before pushing all the way to his last knuckle.

            "Ah-ow...!" Drift tilted his head back, hands pulling at Ratchet’s sheets. It only took a few gentle thrusts before his valve loosened again, but he didn't go for the third finger right away. Instead he suckled on Drift’s outer node, making him cry out in pleasure and jerk about. "P-Primus, Ra-Ratchet.....It hurts so good...." Beads of coolant beaded on his forehead as he looked down, watching Ratchet lavish him. With his free hand, he rubbed Drift’s spike, teasing the head and the base.

            A third finger and Drift cried out, hips lurching back, the pain zinging through him, but quickly being covered by pleasure as Ratchet continued to lick and nibble.

            Pressing his inner walls, he lit new nodes, then his fingers bumped the Factory seal, which blocked of Drift’s ceiling node. No way of getting to it without tearing it and it was something Ratchet wouldn't be able to do with his fingers.

            Bumping the seal again, Drift screamed, body jerking up from the berth. Spike twitching, a hot stream of transfluid spurted out, coating his own chestplate. Throwing himself back down, his legs bumped against Ratchet’s shoulders as the overload ravaged him.

            Valve clamping down with an unholy grip on his fingers, Ratchet made sure to finer a little harder, only removing his fingers once the tremors stopped. Massaging the walls on his way out, he leaned up and kissed Drift, a hand still rubbing his outer node.

            "This next part is going to hurt. Are you ready?" His voice was low, he himself was panting, his own spike out of his housing and rubbing against Drift’s leg.

            "Y...yeah. I'm ready."

            "I'm going to go very slow. But if anything really hurts, tell me, I'll stop." Getting between Drift’s legs, his spike began to run between Drift’s valve lips, sliding in the lovely lubricants a while.

            "I'm ready." Nuzzling him, he wrapped his arms around Ratchet’s neck and braced himself when the spike head pressed in. At first it was just the head, and Drift took it with nothing more than a soft whimper. Then Ratchet slid a little deeper and that's when Drift gritted his denta, optics squeezing shut.

            Feeling the strain in the valve, he kept pushing until he was about two thirds the way in. Getting only a little farther, he felt his spike tip bump the seal, and he stopped. Below him Drift was shaking, coolant building up in his optics, he was breathing hard. Chestplate rising and bumping Ratchet’s every time he took a breath, he smiled and nodded to him.

            Hunkering down, Ratchet wrapped his arms around Drift and pulled his hips back, sliding out slightly before hesitating, then with a quick thrust, he rammed his spike through the seal.

            "GRK! AH!-Ah-hu!" Drift’s frame jerked, and he screamed, his fingers digging into Ratchet’s back plating as the pain shocked him. Tears streamed down his sides of his face and Ratchet was quick to brush them aside with his thumb. Optics low, Drift was bearing his denta at Ratchet, but he was nodding to him to continue.

            Pulling his hips back, he felt a rush of fluids, no doubt lubricant mixed with energon from the ripped seal. Shallow thrust followed, and a free hand was steadily massaging the outer node, trying to ease the pain a bit.

            It took a while, but Drift’s labored breathing subsided to soft grunts and groans. The pain subsiding into pleasure with each new thrust.  Faceplate a light pink, Drift spread his legs a little more, allowing better access for him.

            "Mhm...Ratchet..." Burying his face in Ratchet’s shoulder, Drift held onto him as the pace quickened, and their hips grinded together. "Primus you feel good." Optics dimming, a drunk look spread on his face.

            Each new thrust got closer and closer to the ceiling node until Ratchet rammed it, lighting Drift up.

            "F-frag! -Frag Ratchet!!" Wrapping his legs around the medic, he threw his head back and screamed, Ratchet ramming into him, burying every bit of his spike into him as he could.

            Belly bulging slightly as Ratchet emptied his transfluid into Drift, They both shuddered as Overload washed over them. Ratchet was the first one to come to, and he watched as Drift’s optics blinked, his mouth slightly agape, and then he jerked offline. His reboot slow, but when he onlined, he was smiling so wide Ratchet wondered if he had just lost his mind.

            "You alright." He asked, slowly extracting his spike, a mound of fluids chasing after it.

            "Better than alright." He giggled, basking in the afterglow. "I feel way better than alright." He was pushed over, and then pulled close after Ratchet had laid down.

            "Good."

            "Thank you Ratchet, for everything...."

            "Don't thank me yet kid. You still have a long way to go." Kissing his forehead, he nuzzled him and watched him slip into recharge before whispering. "I'm proud of you kid."

**END**

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S IT!  
>  **ART WORK BY CORALUS**  
>  I couldn't make it a bad ending, I had already put Drift through to much. So its a happy ending for both. -wink wink-  
> But don't be sad! Another story called "Crop Season" will be coming soon! Another dark RatchetXDrift!  
> I'm also taking suggestions and requests, so drop by and let me know what you want to see in the future i'm down for anything!  
> Thank you guy so much for all of the support and lovely comments for this story, it defiantly was finished faster and longer because of it. So thank you so much for having faith in me!  
> I hope to write some more good stuff for you !


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